/f 


ILUN'OIS  HISTORICAL  SURVEY 


FROM    ONE    OF   HIS     LATEST    PHOTOGRAPHS. 


LIFE,  WORK6NO  SERMONS 


OF 


DWIGHT  L.  MOODY 

THE 
GREAT  EVANGELIST 


EDITED  BY 

RICHARD  B.  COOK.,  DD-, 
Author  Life  of  W.  E.  Gladstone,  Life  of  Spurgeon,  Story  of  Jesus,  etc. 


THREE  BOOKS  IN  ONE  VOLUME. 

BOOK  I.— Biography  of  Mr.  Moody,  by  the   Editor. 

BOOK  II.— With  Moody  in  Chicago,  by  H.  M.  Wharton,  D.D 
BOOK  III. — Sermons  and  Addresses  of  Mr.  Moodv. 


BALTIMORE  : 

R.  H.  WOODWARD  COMPANY, 

1900. 


COPYRIGHT,  rgoo. 
R.  H.  WOODWARD  COMPANY. 


6, 

M*1 

1100 


DEDICATION. 


To  the  People  of  America,  without  regard  to  territorial 
limits,  political  opinions,  or  religious  predilections,  whose 
heart  the  subject  of  this  sketch  has  won,  whose  ideal  has 
been  elevated  by  his  labor  and  his  teaching,  whose  life  has 
been  greatly  influenced  for  good,  for  time  and  tternity,  is  this 
volume  respectfully  dedicated. 


A  New  York  man  wrote  to  an  influential  friend  in  Chicago 
to  get  a  situation  or  clerkship  for  a  young  acquaintance  whose 
father  was  president  of  a  bank  in  the  great  Eastern  city.  The 
Chicago  man  replied  that  out  there  they  never  asked  who  a 
man's  father  was,  for  every  man  was  his  own  daddy. 

This  tendency  to  make  light  of  one's  surroundings  and  ante- 
cedents is  seen  in  another  form  in  those  who  have  no  regard 
for  the  past,  who  know  no  history  beyond  yesterday,  who  live 
only  in  the  present,  who  imagine  that  they  have  wholly  made 
themselves,  and  who  dream  that  the  present  generation  only 
deserves  credit  for  the  glory  of  these  closing  years  of  the  nine- 
teenth century. 

The  steps  cannot  all  be  traced  in  the  making  of  a  good  and 
great  man;  it  would  be  instructive  and  interesting  if  possible. 
It  is  beyond  our  reach  to  consider  all  the  influences  at  work 
to  make  such  a  character  as  that  of  Dwight  L.  Moody,  but  we 
do  not  venture  when  we  affirm  that  the  civilization  alone  even 
of  this  wonderful  age  could  not  have  produced  him.  He  and 
the  widely  extended  and  permanent  work  he  performed  were 
the  product  mainly  of  Christianity,  which  he  lived  and  labored 
to  promot^ 

It  is  interesting  to  trace  the  course  of  the  young  man  born 
in  obscurity  and  of  humble  parentage  to  any  exalted  position 


PREFACE. 

in  life,  and  there  are  many  such.  Our  own  country  affords  an 
opportunity  beyond  all  others  for  the  poor  and  friendless  boy 
to  become  great  by  his  own  exertions,  unaided  by  the  favor 
of  men,  to  lift  himself  from  the  lowliest  position  to  the  loftiest 
place  and  to  the  enjoyment  of  riches,  power  and  honor.  The 
biography  of  Dwight  L.  Moody  furnishes  a  remarkable  in- 
stance oT  a  young  man  of  no  education,  no  position,  no  influ- 
ence, no  wealth,  no  great  friends,  advancing  step  by  step  over 
every  obstacle,  until  he  becomes  a  great  and  successful  worker, 
a  masterful  leader,  a  mighty  preacher,  a  great  mover  of  men, 
and  speaking  to  vast  audiences  of  people  collected  by  his  name 
and  held  by  his  wonderful  power  and  rugged  eloquence — prov- 
ing himself  to  be  the  Greatest  Evangelist  of  the  Nineteenth 
Century. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK    I. 
BIOGRAPHY   OF   MR.    MOODY. 

CHAPTERS. 

I.  Parentage  and  Birth 

II.  Clerk  in  Boston — Conversion '. . . . 

III.  Removes  to  Chicago — Church  Work — Married. 

IV.  Begins  to  Wholly  Devote  Himself  to  the  Work. 
V.  Meets  and  Labors  with  Air.  Sankey 

VI.  Great  Fire  in  Chicago 

VII.  Moody  and  Sankey  Go  to  Europe 

VIII.  Work  in  England,  Ireland,  Scotland  and  Wales. 

IX.  Grand  Depot,  Philadelphia 

X.  Meetings  in  New  York 

XI.  Second  Trip  to  Europe 

XII.  Throughout  the  Land  at  Home 

XIII.  Publications — Songs,  Books,  etc 

XIV.  Permanent  Work  at  Northfield 

XV.  Illustrative  Anecdotes 

XVI.  Extracts  from  Discourses  and  Addresses 

XVII.  Estimates  of  His  Worth  and  Work 

XVIII.  Last  Sickness— Death— Burial.. 


BOOK   II. 

WITH  MOODY  AT  CHICAGO,  by  H.  M.  Wharton, 
D.  D 

BOOK    III. 
SERMONS  AND  ADDRESSES  OF  D.  L.  MOODY. 


TESTIMONY  to  the  life  and  character  of  Mr.  D.  L.  Moody  from 
the  distinguished  PROFESSOR  HENRY  DRUMMOND,  author 
of  "Natural  Law  in  the  Spiritual  World"  and  of  "The 
Greatest  Thing  in  the  World:" 

"I  got  a  treat  last  night.  Moody  sat  up  alone  with  me  till 
I  o'clock  telling  me  the  story  of  his  life.  He  told  me  the  whole 
thing.  A  reporter  might  have  made  a  fortune  out  of  it." 

"I  hope  you  will  see  something  of  Moody  when  he  is  in  your 
neighborhood  in  the  early  year.  My  admiration  of  him  has 
increased  a  hundred-fold.  I  had  no  idea  before  of  the  moral 
size  of  the  man,  and  I  think  very  few  know  what  he  really  is." 

"Moody  was  the  biggest  man  I  ever  saw." — Life  of  Henry 
Drummond,  by  Dr.  George  Adam  Smith,  Professor  of  Free  Church 
College,  Glasgow. 


BOOK    I. 


Biography  of  D.  L  Moody  by  the  Editor. 


CHAPTER   I. 
BIRTH   AND    PARENTAGE. 

Dwight  Lyman  Moody  was  born  February  5,  1837, 
in  Northfield,  Mass..  in  a  farmhouse  on  one  of  the  hill- 
sides overlooking  the  beautiful  Connecticut  Valley. 
Northfield  was  first  settled  in  1673  by  thirty  English 
people  form  Northampton  and  three  from  Hadley,  who 
were  "straitened  for  room,"  and  who  looked  with 
longing  eyes  on  the  fertile  meadows  where  "the  grass 
was  very  rank;  if  let  alone  it  grew  up  to  a  man's  face." 
Having  obtained  permission  from  the  General  Court 
of  Massachusetts,  they  purchased  the  land  from  the 
Squakkeag  Indians,  who  were  very  willing  to  sell. 
During  the  Indian  war  under  King  Philip  the  inhabi- 
tants were  surprised  by  the  Indians,  many  massacred 

and  the  rest  forced  for  shelter  to  the  stockade.    When 

13 


14  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

rescued  they  abandoned  their  ruined  settlement.  Some 
of  the  survivors  and  the  heirs  of  those  dead  returned 
seven  years  after  to  rebuild  their  settlement,  which  was 
again  in  1688  broken  up  by  Indians  hired  by  the  Cana- 
dian French.  The  permanent  settlement  was  effected 
in  1713.  Mr.  Moody  was  the  most  eminent  man  the 
town  produced. 

•  Mr.  Moody  was  born  of  poor  parents,  who  labored 
hard  to  secure  a  bare  living  from  the  few  acres  of  land 
which  composed  the  farm.  His  father  was  a  stone 
mason  and  a  small  farmer.  He  was  broken  down  with 
reverses  in  business..  When  Dwight  was  four  years  old 
his  father  suddenly  dropped  dead.  The  widow  was  left 
with  nine  small  children  looking  to  her  alone  for  sup- 
port. She  was  a  woman  of  remarkable  strength  of 
character,  and  met  the  trying  difficulties  of  the  situation 
with  heroic  fortitude.  In  the  strength  of  the  Lord  she 
rose  to  the  duties  before  her  and  reared  her  children. 
During  the  long  and  bitterly  cold  winters  the  family 
were  so  poor  that  the  children  were  sometimes  obliged 
to  stay  in  bed  until  it  was  time  to  go  to  school  in  order 
to  keep  warm,  for  the  supply  of  fuel  was  small  and  un- 
certain.. She  was  urged  to  put  her  children  into  differ- 
ent homes  on  account  of  her  extreme  poverty,  but  pre- 
ferred to  keep  her  little  flock  together,  which  she  man- 
aged to  do  by  tilling,  by  their  help,  the  little  garden 


LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

and  doing  what  work  she  could  do  for  her  neighbors. 

Mr.  Moody  often  has  pathetically  spoken  of  this 
period  of  his  life.  He  says: 

"There  is  no  subject  in  the  Bible  that  takes  stronger 
hold  on  me  than  that  of  the  wandering  sinner.  It  enters 
so  deeply  into  my  own  life.  It  comes  right  into  my 
very  family.  The  first  thing  I  remember  is  the  death 
of  my  father.  It  was  a  lovely  day  in  June  when  he  fell 
suddenly  dead.  The  shock  made  such  an  impression 
on  me,  young  as  I' was,  that  I  shall  never  forget  it.  I 
remember  nothing  about  the  funeral,  but  his  death  has 
made  a  lasting  impression  upon  me.  After  my  father's 
death  the  creditors  came  and  took  everything.  One 
calamity  after  another  swept  over  the  household.  The 
next  thing  that  I  remember  was  that  twins  were  added 
to  the  family  and  my  mother  was  taken  sick.  And  the 
next  thing  occurred  in  our  family  that  impressed  itself 
on  my  young  mind  was  that  my  eldest  brother,  to  whom 
my  mother  looked  up  to  comfort  her  in  her  loneliness 
and  in  her  great  affliction,  all  at  once  left  home  and  be- 
came a  wanderer.  He  had  been  reading  some  of  the 
trashy  novels,  and  was  seized  with  the  belief  that  all  he 
had  to  do  to  make  his  fortune  was  to  go  away,  and 
away  he  went.  I  need  not  tell  you  how  my  mother 
mourned  for  her  boy,  how  she  longed  and  waited  day 
by  day  and  month  by  month  for  his  return.  Night  after 


16  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

night  she  watched  and  wept  and  prayed.  How  eagerly 
she  looked  for  tidings  of  that  boy!  JMany  a  time  we 
were  told  to  go  to  the  postoffice  to  see  if  a  letter  had 
not  come  from  him,  but  we  had  to  bring  back  the  words 
that  increased  the  sorrow  of  her  heart,  'No  letter  yet, 
mother.'  Many  a  time  I  have  waked  up  in  the  night 
and  heard  her  pray,  'Oh,  God,  bring  back  my  boy!' 
Often  she  would  lift  up  her  heart  to  God  in  prayer  for 
her  lost  son.  When  winter  came,  and  some  nights  when 
the  blast  of  winter  came,  and  the  high  wind  began  to 
blow  around  the  house,  and  the  storm  to  rage  without, 
she  would  tremble  at  every  gust,  and  would  show  in 
her  troubled  face  her  anxious  thoughts  and  terrible 
fears,  and  would  pray  for  the  son  who  had  treated  her 
so  unkindly,  and  would  utter  in  piteous  tones,  'Oh,  my 
dear  boy;  perhaps  he  is  now  on  the  ocean  this  fearful 
night.  Oh,  God,  preserve  him.'  We  would  huddle  to- 
gether around  the  fire  on  an  evening  and  ask  her  to  tell 
us  about  our  father,  and  she  would  talk  for  hours  about 
him.  But  if  the  name  of  our  eldest  brother  was  by 
chance  mentioned,  then  all  would  be  hushed,  for  she 
never  spoke  of  him  except  with  tears.  She  would  try 
to  conceal  them,  but  in  vain.  I  used  to  think  she  loved 
him  better  than  all  of  us  put  together,  and  I  believe  she 
did.  When  Thanksgiving  Day  would  come  she  used  to 
set  a  chair  for  him,  thinking  he  would  return  home.  Her 


; 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  17 

friends  and  neighbors  gave  him  up,  but  mother  had 
faith  to  believe  she  would  see  him  again.  Her  family 
grew  up  and  her  boys  left  home.  When  I  got  so  I 
could  write,  I  sent  letters  all  over  the  country,  but 
could  find  no  trace  of  him.  One  day,  while  in  Boston, 
the  news  reached  me  that  he  had  returned.  While  in 
that  cky  I  remember  how  I  used  to  look  for  him  in 
every  store — he  had  a  mark  on  his  face — but  I  never 
got  any  trace.  One  day,  in  the  middle  of  summer, 
while  my  mother  was  sitting  at  the  home  door,  a 
stranger  was  seen  coming  towards  the  house,  and  when 
he  came  to  the  door  he  stopped.  He  came  upon  the 
east  piazza  and  looked  upon  my  mother  through  the 
window.  My  mother  did  not  start  or  rise;  she  didn't 
know  her  boy.  He  stood  there  with  folded  arms  and 
great  beard  flowing  down  his  breast,  his  tears  trickling 
down  his  face.  When  my  mother  saw  those  tears  she 
knew  her  boy  and  cried,  'Oh,  it's  my  lost  son!'  and  en- 
treated him  to  come  in.  But  he  stood  still.  'No, 
mother,'  he  said,  'I  will  not  come  in  until  I  hear  that 
you  have  forgiven  me.'  She  rushed  to  the  threshold, 
threw  her  arms  around  him,  wept  upon  his  shoulder  as 
the  prodigal's  father  did,  and  breathed  forgiveness. 
When  I  heard  of  it  a  thrill  of  joy  shot  through  me." 

In  his  boyhood  Dwight  attended  the  district  school 
which  was  near  his  home.    The  paths  of  wisdom  and 


l8  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

knowledge  had  very  few  attractions  for  him,  and  he 
firmly  held  to  the  sentiment  of  the  old  rhyme  begin- 
ning "Multiplication  is  vexation."  The  only  thing  in 
which  he  seemed  to  excel  was  mischief,  being  more 
fond  of  fun  than  of  study,  and  the  only  strong  element 
in  his  character  was  his  loving  devotion  to  his  mother, 
which  held  his  wild  impulses  in  check.  He  grew  to  be 
a  strong,  self-willed  youth,  and  worked  on  the  farm  the 
most  of  the  time.  The  little  schooling  Dwight  re- 
ceived was  not  greatly  enjoyed,  and  his  distaste  for 
school  and  study  was  greatly  strengthened,  because  the 
teacher  was  a  man  of  violent  temper,  which  he  made  no 
effort  to  control,  and  who  severely  used  a  rattan  on 
the  boys'  backs  upon  the  least  provocation.  In  after 
years  Mr.  Moody  told  how  a  happy  change  took  place 
in  that  school.  He  says:  "After  a  while  there  was 
somebody  who  began  to  get  up  a  movement  in  favor 
of  controlling  the  school  children  by  love.  I  remem- 
ber how  we  thought  of  the  good  time  we  should  have 
that  winter,  when  the  rattan  would  be  banished  from 
school.  We  thought  we  would  then  have  all  the  fun  we 
wanted.  I  remember  who  the  teacher  was — a  lady — 
and  she  opened  the  school  with  prayer.  We  hadn't 
seen  it  so  done  before,  and  it  impressed  us,  especially 
when  she  prayed  that  she  might  have  grace  and 
strength  to  rule  the  school  with  love.  The  school  went 


. 


LIFE    OF     MOODY.  IQ 

on  for  several  weeks,  and  we  saw  no  rattan;  but  at  last 
the  rules  were  broken,  and  I  think  that  I  was  the  first 
boy  to  break  them.  She  requested  me  to  wait  till  after 
school,  when  she  would  see  me.  I  thought  the  rattan 
was  coming  out  to  be  used  at  last,  and  I  stretched  my- 
self up  in  warlike  attitude.  But  after  school  she  sat 
down  by  me  and  told  me  how  she  loved  me,  and  how 
she  had  prayed  to  be  able  to  rule  that  school  by  love, 
and  concluded  by  saying,  'I  want  to  ask  you  one  favor 
— that  is,  if  you  love  me,  try  and  be  a  good  boy;'  and  I 
never  gave  her  trouble  again." 

This  school  incident  shows  that  Dwight  was  suscep- 
tible to  kindness.  Another  story  shows  how  tender 
his  young  heart  was  to  good  impressions.  There  was 
an  old  man  in  the  place  who  was  in  the  habit  of  giving 
every  new  boy  who  came  to  the  town  a  new  penny. 
One  day  the  old  man  put  his  hand  on  Dwight's  head 
and  said  to  him,  "You  have  a  Father  in  heaven,  my 
boy."  He  never  forgot  the  pressure  of  that  hand. 

Moody's  acquirements  made  at  school  were  very 
meager.  He  could  read  only  in  a  stumbling  fashion, 
and  could  probably  master  not  much  more  than  a 
simple  problem  in  arithmetic  requiring  a  knowledge 
merely  of  the  first  four  rules. .  The  rules  of  grammar 
had  very  little  influence  upon  him,  and  his  speech 
abounded  in  the  idioms  of  the  country  district  in  which 


20  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

he  lived.    He  had  physical  strength  and  muscles  devel- 
oped by  constant  exercise  at  labor  and  play,  and  he 
had  undaunted  courage,  but  he  was  in  appearance  un- . 
couth  and  awkward. 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  21 


CHAPTER   II. 
IN  BOSTON. 

When  Dwight  Moody  became  seventeen  years  of  age 
he  concluded  that  he  had  had  enough  of  school  and  all 
the  education  he  needed,  and  that  the  time  had  come  for 
him  to  go  forth  into  the  wide  world  to  seek  his  fortune. 
Farming  in  Northfield  among  the  rocks  was  hard  and 
unprofitable.  Having  obtained  his  mother's  consent, 
he  started  off  in  search  of  employment.  He  first  went 
to  Clifton,  where  he  had  a  brother  a  clerk  in  a  store,  but 
there  being  no  opening,  he  went  to  Boston  and  lived  at 
his  uncle's,  Lemuel  Holton,  while  looking  for  a  situa- 
tion. He  had  two  uncles  in  Boston,  Lemuel  and  Sam- 
uel Holton.  He  hoped  to  get  a  place  without  their  help. 
For  a  time  he  was  unsuccessful  in  finding  work,  and 
endured  the  bitter  experience  of  the  homeless  boy  and 
of  solitude  in  a  great  city,  surrounded  by  multitudes  of 
people. 

Of  this  period  of  his  life  and  of  his  sad  experience  he 
thus  speaks  :  "I  went  to  the  postoffice  two  or  three  times 
a  day  to  see  if  there  was  a  letter  for  me.  I  knew  there 
was  not,  as  there  was  but  one  mail  a  day.  I  had  not  any 


22  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

employment,  and  was  very  homesick,  and  so  went  con- 
stantly to  the  postoffice,  thinking,  perhaps,  when  the 
mail  did  come  in,  my  letter  had  been  mislaid.  At  last, 
however,  I  got  a  letter.  It  was  from  my  youngest  sis- 
ter— the  first  letter  she  ever  wrote  me.  I  opened  it  with 
a  light  heart,  thinking  there  was  some  good  news  from 
home,  but  the  burden  of  the  whole  letter  was  that  she 
had  heard  there  were  pickpockets  in  Boston,  and 
warned  me  to  take  care  of  them.  I  thought  I  had  better 
get  some  money  in  hand  first,  and  then  I  might  take 
care  of  pickpockets." 

After  a  prolonged  struggle,  young  Moody,  just  as  he 
was  thinking  of  a  tramp  to  New  York,  succeeded  in 
securing  a  situation  in  the  boot  and  shoe  store  of  his 
uncle,  Samuel  Holton,  his  mother's  brother.  At  first 
his  uncle  had  been  unwilling  to  take  him,  because  he 
had  visited  Northfield  and  knew  of  Dwight's  wildness. 
He  feared  to  have  trouble  with  him  on  account  of  the 
boy's  wilful  disposition.  When  Dwight  went  to  him, 
however,  he  agreed  to  employ  him,  provided  he  would 
agree  to  certain  conditions — that  he  should  be  gov- 
erned by  his  uncle's  judgment  in  matters  and  not  by 
his  own,  that  he  should  heed  his  advice,  and  that  he 
should  attend  regularly  the  Mount  Vernon  Church  and 
Sunday-school.  The  boy  chafed  under  these,  to  him. 
severe  restrictions,  but  he  was  in  no  condition  to  rebel — 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  23 

his  money  was  exhausted,  and  he  was  reduced  to  sub- 
mission. Doubtless  he  came  afterwards  to  see  the  ben- 
efits these  trials  were  to  him.  But  his  trials  were  not 

• 

over.  His  manners  in  the  store,  and  methods  of  doing 
business,  which  were  original,  to  say  the  least,  were  a 
shock  to  Boston  customers  and  the  cause  of  criticism 
from  other  clerks.  He  acted  upon  the  notion  that  he 
must  fight  his  way  everywhere.  But  before  long  he 
was  selling  more  goods  than  any  of  them.  While  the 
other  clerks  were  spending  their  time  in  chatting,  he 
spent  his  spare  time  out  of  doors,  in  successful  search 
of  purchasers  for  his  goods. 

Young  Moody  had  attended  the  Unitarian  Church 
at  home,  of  which  Rev.  Oliver  Everett  was  the  pastor 
and  of  which  his  mother  was  a  member,  but  in  accord- 
ance with  the  wishes  of  his  uncle  he  attended  the 
preaching  of  the  learned  and  eloquent  Dr.  E.  N.  Kirk,  pas- 
tor of  the  Mount  Vernon  Congregationalist  Church.  His 
able  sermons  had  their  influence,  but  Moody's  devoted 
Sunday-school  teacher,  Mr.  Edward  Kimball,  most  in- 
fluenced him  then  and  in  his  future  life. 

He  was  converted  under  Mr.  Kimball's  faithful 
labors  and  teachings  and  his  tact  to  win  the  boy's  con- 
fidence. One  day  he  came  into  the  store  where  Dwight 
Moody  was  employed,  and  going  behind  the  counter, 
placed  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder  and  talked  about 


24  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

his  becoming  a  Christian.  This  decided  it.  Such  in- 
terest touched  young  Moody's  heart,  and  he  soon  took 
a  stand  on  the  right  side.  But  trial  came  again.  Years 
afterwards  Mr.  Moody  was  able  to  return  Mr.  Kim- 
ball's  kindness  by  leading  his  old  teacher's  son  to 
Christ,  when  seventeen  years  of  age,  just  his  own  age 
when  young  Kimball's  father  befriended  Moody.  Soon 
after  Mr.  Kimball  visited  him  Moody  applied  for  mem- 
bership in  the  church.  He  continued  for  months  to 
knock,  in  vain,  at  the  door  of  the  church  for  admission, 
because  he  failed  to  satisfy  the  too  cautious  officers  of 
the  church  in  his  examinations  as  to  doctrine.  He  could 
not  answer  the  questions  of  the  good  deacons,  but  he 
trusted  the  Saviour  and  wanted  to  serve  Him  in  every 
way  in  his  power.  They  thought  him  very  "unlikely 
ever  to  become  a  Christian  of  clear  and  decided  views 
of  Gospel  truth,  still  less  to  fill  any  extended  sphere  of 
public  usefulness."  It  was  one  long  half-year  he 
waited  before  he  was  received  into  membership.  How- 
ever, he  showed  his  earnest  zeal  by  beginning  at  once 
to  speak  in  the  religious  meetings  of  the  church,  but  so 
ungrammatical  was  his  language,  and  so  uncompli- 
mentary his  remarks  regarding  certain  hurtful  prac- 
tices indulged  in  by  fashionable  members  of  the  church, 
that  his  remarks  were  offensive  to  some  of  the  congre- 
gation, and  he  was  asked  to  keep  silence  and  to  leave 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  25 

the  speaking  and  praying  to  brethren  who  could  do  it 
more  acceptably.  One  lady  begged  his  uncle  Lemuel 
to  advise  the  young  man  to  hold  his  peace  until  he  was 
wiser,  but  his  uncle  refused  to  put  a  straw  in  his  way, 
but  rather  rejoiced.  He  did  not  heed  this  request  to 
stop  speaking,  but  did  wait  for  membership  of  the 
church ;  yet  he  felt  restrained  and  unsuited  to  his  Bos- 
ton surroundings,  and  longed  for  greater  freedom  of 
action  and  speech.  Some  years  afterwards  Dr.  Kirk 
was  in  Chicago  attending  the  meetings  of  the  American 
Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  and 
lodged  with  and  preached  for  Moody.  On  his  return  he 
called  upon  Mr.  Holton  and  said :  "I  told  our  people 
last  night  that  we  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  ourselves. 
There  is  that  young  Moody,  who  we  thought  did  not 
know  enough  to  be  in  our  church  and  Sunday-school, 
exerting  a  greater  influence  for  Christ  than  any  other 
man  in  the  great  Northwest."  It  was  this  procrastina- 
tion that  probably  turned  his  thoughts  and  finally  his 
steps  towards  the  West.  He  had  breathed  the  free 
mountain  air  of  Northfield,  and  he  longed  for  some- 
thing freer  still.  Finally,  in  May,  1855,  Moody  was 
received  into  the  church. 

Dr.  W.  H.  Daniels  records  the  following:  "The  Rev. 
Dr.  Savage  of  Chicago  relates  an  incident  which  oc- 
curred during  Mr.  Moody's  second  visit  to  England, 


26 


LIFE    OF     MOODY. 


when  he  took  a  good-natured  revenge  upon  one  of 
those  very  deacons. 

"At  one  of  his  great  meetings  in  Exeter  Hall  he 
espied  his  old  friend  sitting  in  a  corner  away  back  under 
the  gallery.  The  good  man,  traveling  for  his  health, 
had  seen  the  notice  of  the  meeting,  and,  partly  out  of 
curiosity  to  see  what  the  man  could  do,  he  attended  the 
service,  taking  a  seat  where  he  felt  sure  Moody  would 
not  see  him.  But  just  before  closing  the  meeting  Mr. 
Moody  exclaimed : 

"  'I  see  in  the  house  an  eminent  Christian  gentleman 
from  Boston.  Deacon  Palmer,  come  right  forward  to 
the  platform  :  the  people  want  to  hear  from  you.' 

"The  deacon  shook  his  head,  but  Moody  was  inex- 
orable ;  so  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  to  accept 
the  situation  and  face  the  audience.  He  commenced  by 
saying  that  he  had  known  Mr.  Moody  in  Boston  in 
early  life;  had  been,  in  fact,  a  member  of  the  same 
church  with  him,  and  was  very  glad  of  his  great  suc- 
cess in  the  service  of  the  Lord,  when  Moody  suddenly 
burst  out  with  the  remark : 

( 'Yes,  deacon,  and  you  kept  me  out  of  that  church 
for  six  months  because  you  thought  I  did  not  know 
enough  to  join  it.' 

"The  effect  of  such  a  speech  under  such  circum- 
stances can  be  better  imagined  than  described.  But  the 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  2? 

deacon  was  too  old  a  speaker  to  be  silenced  by  such  a 
retort,  though  ne  found  it  difficult  to  be  heard  on  ac- 
count of  the  laughter  which  followed  it.  The  audience, 
he  said,  must  agree  with  him  that  it  was  a  great  privi- 
lege to  have  received  Mr.  Moody  into  the  church  at  all, 
even  though  with  great  misgivings  and  after  long 
delay." 

Moody  carried  to  the  city  those  elements  of  success 
that  characterized  his  early  life  at  home.  He  had  the 
rich  inheritance  of  a  vigorous  constitution,  boundless 
ambition  and  animal  spirits  and  a  will  strong  enough 
to  break  down  nil  opposition  and  drive  him  on  to  suc- 
cess. His  native  pride  was  all  the  time  leading  him  to 
undertake  things  that  were  far  beyond  his  strength  and 
years.  A  bold  push,  aided  by  ready  wit,  carried  him 
over  many  a  difficulty  before  which  wiser,  but  less  cour- 
ageous, persons  would  hesitate  and  then  despair.  His 
mother  used  to  say,  "He  used  to  think  himself  a  man 
when  he  was  only  a  boy."  The  authority  of  a  father 
was  wanting,  and  he  soon  came  to  feel  himself  his  own 
master.  Anything  was  easier  than  submission. 

Moody  began  early  to  feel  his  dependence  on  God, 
even  before  he  went  to  Boston.  Once,  when  he  was 
crawling  under  a  heavy  rail  fence,  it  fell  upon  him  and 
caught  him  so  that  he  could  not  extricate  himself.  He 
struggled  until  he  was  almost  exhausted,  and  then  he 


28  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

cried  for  help ;  but  he  was  too  far  from  any  house  to  be 
heard,  and  no  one  was  near.  At  last  he  got  out  in 
safety,  and  gives  this  account  of  his  escape : 

"I  tried  and  tried,  and  I  couldn't  lift  them  awful  heavy 
rails ;  then  I  hollered  for  help,  but  nobody  came,  and 
then  I  began  to  think  I  should  have  to  die  away  up  there 
on  the  mountain  all  alone.  But  I  happened  to  think 
that,  maybe,  God  would  help  me,  and  so  I  asked  Him. 
And  after  that  I  could  lift  the  rails  just  as  easy !" 

Young  Moody  remained  in  Boston  only  five  months 
after  being  received  into  the  membership  of  the  Mount 
Vernon  Church.  His  brethren  hoped  that  longer  expe- 
rience would  tone  down  his  impetuous  spirit  and  make 
him  at  length  a  quiet  and  orderly  Christian,  according 
to  their  own  pattern.  But  Moody  felt  that  Boston  was 
ho  place  for  him  and  his  ways  and  methods,  and  finally 
took  his  departure. 


104  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

CHAPTER   XV. 
ILLUSTRATIVE    ANECDOTES. 

"I  REMEMBER  WHEN  MR.  SANKEY  AND  MYSELF  WERE 

IN  CHICAGO  PREACHING.  We  had  been  five  Sunday 
nights  on  the  life  of  Christ.  We  had  taken  Him  from 
the  cradle,  and  on  the  fifth  night  we  had  just  got  Him 
up  to  where  we  have  Him  today.  He  was  in  the  hands 
of  Pilate,  and  Pilate  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  Him. 
I  remember  it  distinctly,  for  I  made  one  of  the  greatest 
mistakes  that  night  I  ever  made.  After  I  had  nearly 
finished  my  sermon,  I  said,  'I  want  you  to  take  this 
home  with  you,  and  next  Sunday  night  we  will  see  what 
you  will  do  with  Him.'  Well,  after  awhile  the  meeting 
closed,  and  we  had  a  second  meeting.  The  people  gath- 
ered in  the  room,  and  Mr.  Sankey  during  the  service 
sang  a  hymn,  and  as  he  got  down  to  the  verse,  'The 
Saviour  calls,  for  refuge  fly/  I  saw  I  had  made  a  mis- 
take in  telling  the  people  that  next  week  they  could 
answer.  I  saw  that  it  was  wrong  to  put  off  answering 
the  question.  After  the  meeting  closed  I  started  to  go 
home.  They  were  ringing  the  fire  alarm  at  that  time, 
and  it  proved  to  be  the  death  knell  of  our  city.  I  didn'i 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  IO5 

know  what  it  meant,  and  so  went  home.  That  night 
the  fire  raged  through  the  city,  destroying  everything 
in  its  path,  and  before  the  next  morning  the  very  hall 
where  we  had  gathered  was  in  ashes.  People  rushed 
through  the  streets  crazed  with  fear,  and  some  of  those 
who  were  at  the  meeting  were  burned  to  death.  Oh, 
what  a  mistake  to  put  off  the  answer.  May  God  for- 
give me  if  I  should  give  them  a  week  to  decide  that 
question.  It  is  not  safe  to  delay;  answer  it  today.  I 
seldom  come  off  of  this  platform  but  what  I  hear  of 
some  one  who  is  sick,  and  I  do  not  know  how  far  sick- 
ness or  death  may  be  from  you.  'Today  the  Saviour 
calls ;  for  refuge  fly.' 

"THAT  is  THE  WAY  MEN  MAKE  OUT  THEIR  PARDON — 
FOR  GOOD  BEHAVIOR — but  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ 
is  offered  to  those  that  have  not  behaved  well.  It  is 
offered  to  all  that  have  sinned  and  are  not  worthy.  All 
a  man  has  got  to  prove  now  is  that  he  is  not  worthy, 
and  I  will  show  him  that  Christ  died  for  him.  Christ 
died  for  us  while  we  were  yet  in  sin.  While  we  were  in 
London,  Mr.  Spurgeon  one  day  took  Mr.  Sankey  and 
myself  to  his  orphan  asylum,  and  he  was  telling  about 
them — that  some  of  them  had  aunts  and  some  cousins, 
and  that  every  boy  had  some  friend  that  took  an  inter- 
est in  him,  and  came  to  see  him  and  gave  him  a  little 


106  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

pocket  money;  and  one  day,  he  said,  while  he  stood 
there  a  little  boy  came  up  to  him  and  said,  'Mr.  Spur- 
geon,  let  me  speak  to  you,'  and  the  boy  sat  down  be- 
tween Mr.  Spurgeon  and  the  elder  who  was  with  the 
clergyman,  and  said:  'Mr.  Spurgeon,  suppose  your 
father  and  mother  were  dead,  and  you  didn't  have  any 
cousins,  or  aunts,  or  uncles,  or  friends  to  come  to  give 
you' pocket  money  and  give  you  presents,  don't  you 
think  you  would  feel  bad — because  that's  me.'  Said 
Mr.  Spurgeon:  'The  minute  he  asked  that  I  put  my 
right  hand  down  into  my  pocket  and  took  out  the 
money.'  Because  that's  me!  And  so  with  the  Gospel; 
we  must  say  to  those  who  have  sinned,  the  Gospel  is 
offered  to  them. 

"LooK  AT  THAT  MAN  GIDEON.  He  marshaled  his 
army  of  thirty  thousand  men  to  give  battle  to  the  Phil- 
istines. God  said:  'Gideon,  your  army  is  too  great. 
My  people  would  be  lifted  up  and  they  would  take  the 
glory  upon  themselves.'  God  said  to  Gideon:  'You 
just  say  to  the  men  who  are  fearful  and  afraid,  "Go 
home." '  And  the  Lord  reduced  the  army  twenty 
thousand,  leaving  only  ten  thousand  men.  But  God 
said:  'Gideon,  you  have  got  too  many;  if  those  ten 
thousand  men  get  victory  they  will  say,  "Look  what 
we  have  done."  Just  take  them  down  to  the  water, 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  IO/ 

and  we  will  try  them  again.  Those  that  drink  it  up  one 
way  and  those  that  lap  it  up  another,  they  shall  be  sep- 
arated.' Then  God  took  away  all  but  three  hundred. 
God  said  that  was  enough.  'If  I  get  a  victory  with 
those  three  hundred  I  will  get  the  glory.'  I  would 
rather  have  three  hundred  men  in  New  York  whose 
hearts  are  right  with  God  than  a  host  who  take  upon 
themselves  the  glory  which  belongs  to  the  Lord. 

"I  have  no  doubt  but  that  some  here  will  say,  'There 
are  so  many  obstacles  in  the  way,  I  don't  believe  we 
are  going  to  succeed.  You  won't  succeed  in  New 
York ;  it  is  a  very  hard  place,  New  York  is.'  If  God  is 
with  us  we  are  going  to  succeed.  If  we  take  God  out 
of  our  plans  we  are  going  to  fail,  and  we  ought  to  fail. 
Is  not  the  God  of  our  fathers  strong  enough  to  take 
this  city  and  shake  it  as  a  little  child?  There  is  not  a 
skeptic  in  the  city  of  New  York  but  what  the  power  of 
God  can  reach. 

"When  we  were  in  Philadelphia  we  almost  failed  for 
a  few  weeks.  The  crowds  were  so  great  that  many  of 
those  who  attended  the  meetings  spent  most  of  their 
time  in  watching  the  people.  We  could  not  get  their 
eyes  toward  the  cross  for  a  long  time.  By  and  by, 
when  the  holidays  came  on,  the  numbers  began  to  fall 
off,  and  it  was  the  best  thing  for  us.  It  was  what  we 
wanted,  so  that  men  could  think  of  God, 


108  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

"WHEN  WE  WERE  IN  BELFAST  there  was  a  man  who 
heard  about  leading  souls  to  Christ.  He  began  by 
talking  to  his  wife,  and  to  his  servant,  and  to  his  chil- 
dren, and  just  as  we  were  leaving  Belfast  they  were 
very  much  interested,  but  not  converted.  He  came 
down  to  Dublin — broke  up  his  home,  left  his  business 
and  came  to  Dublin.  One  night  he  came  to  me  very 
joyous,  and  he  says,  'My  wife  has  been  converted.'  A 
little  while  after  he  came  and  said,  'My  younger  son 
has  been  converted,'  and  a  little  while  after  he  said, 
'My  oldest  son  has  been  converted.'  And  now  the 
whole  family  is  in  the  ark.  And  he  came  over  to  Man- 
chester, and  he  came  up  to  London,  and  now,  perhaps, 
in  all  Belfast  there  is  not  one  that  works  harder  than 
that  whole  family.  Look  at  this  man's  success.  He 
found  his  work  was  right  there  in  his  own  household, 
and  if  the  fathers  and  mothers  and  sisters  and  wives 
and  brothers  will  try  to  bring  the  members  of  their 
families  to  Christ,  and  cry,  'Oh,  God,  teach  me  what 
my  work  is,'  the  Spirit  of  God  will  surely  tell  them 
what  their  work  is,  and  then  if  they  are  ready  to  go 
and  do  it  there  will  be  thousands  converted  in  this  city 
in  a  few  days.  Oh,  may  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  come 
upon  us  tonight,  and  may  every  one  of  us  be  taught  by 
the  Holy  Ghost  what  our  work  is,  and  may  we  be  ready 
to  do  it. 


Is 
II 

>•  O 


i-3  ^ 

S  H 

o  ts 

a  c 

a  ^ 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  IOQ 

"I  REMEMBER  HEARING  OF  A  PERSON  THAT  WAS  AL- 
WAYS TRYING  TO  DO  SOME  GREAT  THING  FOR  THE 

LORD,  and  because  he  could  not  do  a  great  thing  he 
never  did  anything.  There  are  a  great  many  who 
would  be  willing  to  do  great  things  if  they  could  come 
up  and  have  their  names  heralded  through  the  press. 
I  remember  hearing  of  a  man's  dream,  in  which  he 
imagined  that  when  he  died  he  was  taken  by  the  angels 
to  a  beautiful  temple.  After  admiring  it  for  a  time,  he 
discovered  that  one  stone  was  missing.  All  finished 
but  just  one  little  stone ;  that  was  left  out.  He  said  to 
the  angel:  'What  is  this  stone  left  out  for?'  The  angel 
replied,  "That  was  left  out  for  you,  but  you  wanted  to 
do  great  things,  and  so  there  was  no  room  left  for  you.' 
He  was  startled  and  awoke,  and  resolved  that  he  would 
become  a  worker  for  God,  and  that  man  always  worked 
faithfully  after  that. 

"WHEN  I  WAS  AT  MR.  SPURGEON'S  HOUSE  he  showed 
me  some  pictures  of  his  twin  boys.  He  had  had  them 
taken  every  year  since  they  were  born,  and  they  were 
then  seventeen.  You  look  at  the  pictures  from  year  to 
year,  and  there  is  not  much  difference  between  them, 
but  in  the  seventeen  years  there  is  a  great  difference.  So 
with  you  young  converts ;  there  is  not  much  difference 
in  you  from  year  to  year,  but,  as  you  grow  in  grace,  in 


HO  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

the  course  of  seventeen  years  there  will  be  a  very  great 
change.  You  want  to  grow  from  week  to  week,  from 
month  to  month  and  from  year  to  year  steadily,  so  you 
will  become  stronger  in  the  service  of  God.  'God  is 
able  to  make  all  grace  abound  toward  you.' 

"IT  IS  THE  GREATEST  PLEASURE  OF  LIVING  TO  WIN 

SOULS  TO  CHRIST,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  that  angels  can't 
enjoy.  It  is  sometimes  a  wonder  to  me  that  God 
doesn't  take  the  work  out  from  the  church  and  give  it 
to  the  angels.  If  the  redeemed  saints  could  come  by 
the  bar,  I  sometimes  think  they  would  rejoice  in  com- 
ing back  here  to  have  the  privilege  of  leading  one  more 
soul  to  Christ.  Isn't  it  high  time  that  the  church  got 
awake  from  its  midnight  slumber?  It  is  time  the  work 
was  commenced,  and  when  the  Spirit  of  God  revives 
it,  shan't  we  go  and  do  it?  Are  there  not  five  thousand 
Christians  in  this  hall,  and  ain't  there  some  one  among 
them  that  can  lead  a  soul  to  Christ  within  the  next 
week?  If  we  work,  what  a  great  army  can  be  brought 
in,  if  we  are  only  faithful.  I  want  to  say  to  the  Chris- 
tians here  that  there  is  one  rule  I  have  followed  that 
has  helped  me  wonderfully.  I  made  it  a  rule  that  I 
wouldn't  let  a  day  pass  without  speaking  to  some  one 
about  their  soul's  salvation,  and  if  they  didn't  hear  the 
Gospel  from  the  lips  of  others,  there  will  be  three  hun- 


LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

dred  and  sixty-five  in  a  year  that  shall  hear  the  Gospel 
from  my  lips.  There  are  five  thousand  Christians  here 
tonight;  can't  they  say,  'We  won't  let  a  day  pass  with- 
out speaking  a  word  to  some  one  about  the  cause  of 
Christ.' 

"ABOUT  FOUR  YEARS  AGO  I  GOT  INTO  A  COLD  STATE. 
It  did  not  seem  as  if  there  was  any  unction  resting  upon 
my  ministry.  For  four  long  months  God  seemed  to  be 
just  showing  me  myself.  I  found  I  was  ambitious.  I 
was  not  preaching  for  Christ ;  I  was  -preaching  for  am- 
bition. I  found  everything  in  my  heart  that  ought  not 
to  be  there.  For  four  months  a  wrestling  went  on 
within  me,  and  I  was  a  miserable  man.  But  after  four 
months  the  anointing  came.  It  came  upon  me  as  I 
was  walking  in  the  streets  of  New  York.  Many  a  time 
I  have  thought  of  it  since  I  have  been  here.  At  last  I 
had  returned  to  God  again,  and  I  was  wretched  no 
longer.  I  almost  prayed  in  my  joy,  'Oh,  stay  Thy 
hand.'  I  thought  this  earthen  vessel  would  break.  He 
filled  me  so  full  of  the  Spirit.  If  I  have  not  been  a  dif- 
ferent man  since,  I  do  not  know  myself.  I  think  I 
have  accomplished  more  in  the  last  four  years  than  in 
all  the  rest  of  my  life.  But,  Oh,  it  was  preceded- by  a 
wrestling  and  a  hard  struggle !  I  think  I  had  never  got 
out  of  this  miserable  selfishness.  There  was  a  time 


112  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

when  I  wanted  to  see  my  little  vineyard  blessed,  and 
I  could  not  get  out  of  it;  but  I  could  work  for  the  whole 
world  now.  I  would  like  to  go  round  the  world  and 
tell  the  perishing  millions  of  a  Saviour's  love. 

"THERE  WAS  A  LADY  THAT  CAME  TO  LIVERPOOL  TO 
SEE  us  PRIVATELY;  it  was  just  before  we  were  about  to 
leave  that  city  to  go  up  to  London  to  preach.  With 
tears  and  sobs,  she  told  a  very  pitiful  story.  It  was 
this :  She  said  she  had  a  boy  nineteen  years  of  age  who 
had  left  her.  She  showed  me  his  photograph,  and  asked 
me  to  put  it  in  my  pocket.  'You  stand  before  many 
and  large  assemblies,  Mr.  Moody.  My  boy  may  be  in 
London  now.  Oh,  look  at  the  audiences  to  whom  you 
will  preach ;  look  earnestly.  You  may  see  my  dear  boy 
before  you.  If  you  do  see  him,  tell  him  to  come  back 
to  me.  Oh,  implore  him  to  come  to  his  sorrowing 
mother,  to  his  deserted  home.  He  may  be  in  trouble ; 
he  may  be  suffering.  Tell  him,  for  his  loving  mother, 
that  all  is  forgiven  and  forgotten,  and  he  will  find  com- 
fort and  peace  at  home.'  On  the  back  of  this  photo- 
graph she  had  written  his  full  name  and  address;  she 
had  noted  his  complexion,  the  color  of  his  eyes  and 
hair,  why  he  had  left  home,  and  the  cause  of  his  so  do- 
ing. 'When  you  preach,  Mr.  Moody,  look  for  my  poor 
boy,'  were  the  parting  words  of  that  mother.  That 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  113 

young  man  may  be  in  this  hall  tonight.  If  he  is  I  want 
to  tell  him  that  his  mother  loves  him  still.  I  will  read 
out  his  name,  and  if  any  of  you  ever  hear  of  that  young 
man,  just  tell  him  that  his  mother  is  waiting  with  a  lov- 
ing heart  and  a  tender  embrace  for  him.  His  name  is 
Arthur  P.  Oxley  of  Manchester,  England.  All  who 
have  got  children  around  you  and  about  you,  and  can 
feel  the  pangs  that  agitate  the  breasts  of  these  families 
whose  chief  joys  and  delights  are  gone,  lift  up  your 
hearts  to  God  for  this  erring  father  and  for  this  wan- 
dering boy.  If  they  be  anywhere  yet  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  pray  to  God  that  He  will  turn  their  hearts  and 
bring  them  back. 


LIFE    OF    MOODY. 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 
YOUNG  MEN  URGED  TO  DECIDE  FOR  GOD. 

1  Kings  xviii,  21:  "And  Elijah  came  unto  all  the  people  and  said,  How 
long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions?  If  the  Lord  be  God,  follow 
Him;  but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him.  And  the  people  answered  him 
not  a  word." 

We  found  in  this  portion  of  the  Word  of  God  that  Elijah  was 
calling  the  people  of  Israel  back,  or  he  was  calling  them  to  a 
decision  as  to  whether  they  were  for  God  or  Baal,  and  a  great 
many  were  halting  between  two  opinions.  A  great  many  are 
talking — a  great  many  are  taking  their  stand  for  and  a  great 
many  against  Him.  Now,  what  will  you  do?  I  will  divide  this 
audience  into  two  portions — one  against  and  one  for  Him.  It 
seems  to  me  a  practical  question  to  ask  an  audience  like  this, 
"How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions?  If  the  Lord  be  God, 
follow  Him;  but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him."  A  man  who  is  un- 
decided about  any  question  of  any  magnitude  never  has  any 
comfort,  never  has  any  peace.  Not  only  that,  but  we  don't  like 
a  man  who  cannot  decide  upon  a  question.  I  like  men  of  de- 
cision, and  firmly  believe  that  more  men  are  lost  by  indecision 
than  by  anything  else.  It  is  a  question  whether  I  am  not  talk- 
ing to  many  men  who  intend  some  day  to  settle  this  question. 
Probably  everyone  here  intends  to  make  Heaven  his  home,  but 
Satan  is  trying  to  get  you  to  put  off  the  settlement  of  the  ques- 
tion till  it  will  be  too  late.  If  he  can  only  get  men  to  put  off  till 
the  "tomorrow,"  which  never  comes,  he  has  accomplished  all 
he  wants.  How  many  in  this  audience  have  promised  some 
friend  years  ago  that  they  would  settle  this  question?  Perhaps 
you  said  you  would  do  so  when  you  came  of  age.  That  time 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  ll 

has  gone  with  some  of  you,  and  it  has  not  been  settled.  Some 
have  reached  thirty,  some  forty,  and  others  have  reached  fifty 
years,  their  eyes  are  growing  dim,  and  they  are  hastening  to- 
ward eternity,  and  this  is  not  settled  with  them  yet.  Some  of 
you  have  promised  dying  brothers  that  you  would  meet  them 
in  that  world;  some  have  promised  dying  wives  that  you  would 
see  them  in  that  land  of  light,  and  again  others  have  given 
their  word  to  dying  children  that  you  would  meet  them  in 
Heaven.  Years  have  rolled  away,  and  still  you  have  not  de- 
cided. You  have  kept  putting  it  off  week  by  week  and  year  by 
year.  My  friends,  why  not  decide  tonight?  "How  long  halt 
ye  between  two  opinions?"  If  the  Lord  be  God,  serve  Him; 
if  not,  turn  your  backs  upon  Him.  It  seems  to  me  a  question 
every  man  can  settle  if  he  will.  You  like  those  grand  old  char- 
acters in  the  Bible  who  have  made  a  decisive  stand.  Look  at 
Moses!  The  turning  point  in  his  life  was  when  he  decided  to 
give  up  the  gilded  court  of  Pharaoh  and  cast  his  lot  with  God's 
people.  You  will  find  that  every  man  who  has  left  a  record  in 
the  Bible  has  been  a  man  of  decision.  What  made  Daniel 
great?  It  was  because  he  was  a  man  of  decision.  What  saved 
the  prodigal?  It  was  not  his  coming  home.  The  turning  point 
was  when  he  decided  the  question:  "I  will  arise  and  go  to  my 
father."  It  was  the  decision  of  the  young  man  that  saved  him. 
Many  a  man  has  been  lost  because  of  indecision.  Look  at 
Felix,  look  at  Agrippa.  Felix  said,  "Go  Thy  way  for  this  time; 
when  I  have  a  convenient  season  I  will  call  for  Thee."  See 
what  Agrippa  said:  "Almost  thou  persuadest  me  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian." Look  at  Pilate — all  lost;  lost  because  of  their  indecision. 
His  mind  was  thoroughly  convinced  that  Jesus  was  the  true 
Christ;  he  said,  "I  find  no  fault  in  Him,"  but  he  did  not  have 
the  courage  to  take  his  stand  for  Him.  Thousands  have  gone 
down  to  the  caverns  of  death  for  want  of  courage.  My  friends, 
let  us  look  this  question  in  the  face.  If  there  is  anything  at  all 
in  the  religion  of  Christ,  give  everything  for  it.  If  there  is 
nothing  in  it — if  it  is  a  myth,  if  our  mothers  who  have  prayed 
over  us  have  been  deceived,  if  the  praying  people  of  the  last 


162  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

eighteen  hundred  years  have  ben  deluded — let  us  find  it  out. 
The  quicker  the  better.  If  there  is  nothing  in  the  religion  of 
Christ,  let  us  throw  it  over  and  eat,  drink  and  be  merry,  for  to- 
morrow we  die.  If  there  is  no  devil  to  deceive  us,  no  hell  to 
receive  us,  if  Christianity  is  a  sham,  let  us  come  out  like  men 
and  say  so.  I  hope  to  live  to  see  the  time  when  there  will  be 
only  two  classes  in  this  world — Christians  and  infidels — those 
who  take  their  stand  bravely  for  Him  and  those  who  take  their 
stand  against  Him.  This  idea  of  men  standing  still  and  saying, 
"Well,  I  don't  know,  but  I  think  there  must  be  something  in  it," 
is  absurd.  If  there  is  anything  in  it,  there  is  everything  in  it. 
If  the  Bible  of  our  mothers  is  not  true,  let  us  burn  it.  Is  there* 
one  in  this  audience  who  is  willing  to  say  and  to  do  this?  If  it 
is  a  myth,  why  spend  so  much  money  in  publishing  it?  Why 
send  out  millions  of  Bibles  to  the  nations  of  the  earth?  Let  us 
destroy  it  if  it  is  false,  and  all  those  institutions  giving  the 
Gospel  to  the  world.  What  is  the  use  of  all  this  waste  of 
money?  Let  us  burn  the  book  and  send  up  a  shout  over  its 
ashes.  "There  is  no  God;  there  is  no  hell;  there  is  no  -Heaven; 
there  is  no  hereafter.  When  men  die,  they  die  like  dogs  in  the 
street!"  But,  my  friends,  if  it  is  true — if  Heaven,  if  a  hereafter, 
if  the  Bible  is  true,  let  us  come  out  boldly,  like  men,  for  Christ. 
Let  us  take  our  stand,  and  not  be  ashamed  of  the  Gospel  of 
Jesus  Christ.  Why,  it  seems  to  me  a  question  that  ought  to  be 
settled  in  this  nineteenth  century  easy  enough,  whether  you  are 
for  or  against  Him  or  not.  Why,  if  Baal  be  God,  follow  him ; 
but  if  the  Lord  be  God,  follow  Him.  If  there  is  no  truth  in 
the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ,  you  may  as  well  tear  down  all  your 
churches,  destroy  your  hospitals,  your  blind  asylums.  It's  a 
waste  of  money  to  build  them.  Baalites  don't  build  blind  asy- 
lums, don't  build  hospitals,  don't  build  orphan  asylums. 

If  there  had  been  no  Christians  in  the  world  there  would 
have  been  no  charitable  institutions.  If  it  hadn't  been  for 
Christianity  you  would  have  had  no  praying  mothers.  Is  it 
true  that  their  prayers  have  exercised  a  pernicious  influence? 
Is  it  true  that  a  boy  who  had  a  praying  father  and  mother,  or  a 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  163 

good  teacher,  is  no  better  off  than  a  boy  who  has  been  brought 
up  amid  blasphemy  and  infamy?  Is  it  true?  It  must  be  either 
one  way  or  the  other.  Did  bad  men  write  the  Bible?  Cer- 
tainly not,  or  they  wouldn't  have  consigned  themselves  to  eter- 
nal perdition.  The  very  fact  that  the  Bible  has  lived  and  grown 
during  these  eighteen  hundred  years  is  a  strong  proof  that  it 
came  from  God.  Men  have  tried  to  put  it  out  of  the  world; 
they  have  tried  to  burn  it  out  of  the  worH,  but  they  have  failed. 
It  has  come  down  to  us — down  these  eighteen  hundred  years, 
amid  persecution,  and  now  we  are  in  a  land  where  it  is  open  to 
all,  and  no  man  need  be  without  one.  What  put  it  into  the 
minds  of  those  men  who  give  money  liberally  to  print  and  cir- 
culate this  book?  Bad  men  wouldn't  do  this.  This  is  a  ques- 
tion that,  it  seems  to  me,  could  be  decided  tonight.  If  it  is  not 
good,  then  take  your  stand.  If  the  Lord  be  God,  follow  Him; 
but  if  God  be  Baal,  then  follow  him.  Some  one  asked  Alexan- 
der how  he  conquered  the  world,  and  he  replied  that  he  con- 
quered it  by  not  delaying.  If  you  want  to  conquer  the  devil 
you  must  not  delay — accept  eternal  life  as  a  gift. 

Let  us  take  the  surroundings  of  this  text.  We  are  told  that 
Elijah  stood  before  Ahab  and  told  him,  because  of  the  evil 
deeds  of  Israel  and  the  king,  there  would  no  rain  come  upon  the 
land  for  three  years  and  a  half.  After  that  Elijah  went  off  to 
Brook  Cherith,  where  he  was  fed  by  the  ravens,  after  which  he 
went  to  Zarephath,  and  there  dwelt  with  a  poor  widow  for 
months  and  months.  Three  years  and  a  half  rolled  away,  and 
not  one  drop  of  rain  or  dew  had  come  from  Heaven.  Probably 
when  Elijah  told  the  king  there  would  be  no  rain  he  laughed 
at  him.  The  idea  that  he  should  have  the  key  of  Heaven!  He 
scouted  the  very  idea  at  first.  But  after  a  little  it  became  a  very 
serious  matter.  The  brooks  began  to  dry  up,  the  cattle  could 
not  get  water,  the  crops  failed  the  first  year,  the  next  year  they 
were  worse,  the  third  year  they  were  even  a  worse  failure,  and 
the  people  began  to  flee  out  of  his  kingdom  to  get  food,  and  yet 
they  did  not  call  upon  Elijah's  God.  They  had  four  hundred 
and  fifty  prophets  of  Baal  and  four  hundred  prophets  of  the 


164  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

groves,  and  yet  all  their  prayers  did  not  bring  rain.  Why  did 
they  not  ask  God  for  rain  ?  Baal  was  not  an  answerer  of  prayer. 
The  devil  never  answers  prayer.  If  prayer  has  ever  been  an- 
swered it  has  been  answered  by  the  God  of  our  fathers,  by  the 
God  of  our  mothers.  After  Elijah  had  been  gone  three  and  a 
half  years  he  returned  and  met  Obadiah,  the  governor  of  the 
king's  house,  and  Ahab  said:  "You  go  down  that  way  and  I'll 
go  down  this  way,  and  see  if  we  can't  discover  water."  They 
hadn't  been  separated  long  when  Obadiah  met  Elijah  and  asked 
him  to  come  to  the  king.  The  prophet  told  him  to  go  and  say 
to  Ahab,  "Elijah  is  here."  But  Obadiah  did  not  want  to  leave 
him.  "If  I  lose  sight  of  you  this  time,  when  the  king  knows 
you  have  stepped  through  my  lands  it  may  cost  me  my  life. 
Don't  you  know  I've  been  a  servant  of  the  true  God  all  the  time, 
and  I've  had  a  hundred  of  the  prophets  of  the  Lord  in  a  cave? 
If  you  don't  come  I  will  lose  my  life."  Elijah  told  him  to  go 
and  bring  Ahab,  and  instead  of  Elijah  going  to  Ahab,  Ahab 
comes  to  him.  When  the  king  came  he  said,  "Art  thou  he  that 
troubleth  Israel?"  That  is  the  way  with  men;  they  bring  down 
the  wrath  of  God  upon  themselves,  and  then  blame  God's  peo- 
ple. A  great  many  people  are  blaming  God  for  these  hard 
times.  Look  on  the  millions  and  millions  of  money  spent  for 
whiskey.  Why,  it  is  about  time  for  famine  to  strike  the  land. 
If  men  had  millions  of  money  it  wouldn't  be  long  before  all 
the  manhood  would  be  struck  out  of  them.  Now,  the  people 
of  Israel  had  gone  over  to  Baal;  they  had  forgotten  the  God 
that  brought  them  out  of  Egypt,  the  God  of  Jacob  and  Abra- 
ham and  of  their  fathers.  "Now,"  says  Elijah,  "let's  have  this 
settled.  Let  some  of  your  people  make  an  offering  to  their  god 
on  Mount  Carmel,  and  I  will  make  an  offering  to  my  God,  and 
the  God  that  answers  by  fire  will  be  the  God."  The  king  agreed, 
and  the  day  arrives.  You  can  see  a  great  stir  among  the  people 
that  day;  they  are  moving  up  to  Mount  Carmel.  By  and  by 
Ahab  comes  up  in  his  royal  carriage,  and  those  four  hundred 
and  fifty  prophets  of  Baal  and  four  hundred  prophets  of  the 
groves  made  a  great  impression.  Dressed  in  priestly  robes, 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  165 

they  move  solemnly  up  that  mountain.  The  king  has  swept 
along  in  his  chariot,  and  perhaps  passed  by  the  poor  priest  Eli- 
jah, who  comes  slowly  up,  leaning  upon  his  staff,  his  long, 
white  hair  streaming  about  his  shoulders.  People  don't  be- 
lieve in  sensations.  That  was  one  of  the  greatest  sensations  of 
their  age.  What  is  going  to  happen?  No  doubt  the  whole 
nation  had  been  talking  about  Elijah,  and  when  he  came  to 
that  mountain  the  crowd  looked  upon  him  as  the  man  who  held 
the  key  of  Heaven.  When  he  came  up  he  addressed  the  chil- 
dren of  Israel.  Perhaps  there  were  hundreds  of  thousands. 
"How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions?  If  the  Lord  be  God, 
follow  Him;  but  if  he  be  Baal,  then  follow  him;  and  the  people 
answered  not  a  word."  These  eight  hundred  and  fifty  proph- 
ets made  a  great  impression  upon  them,  and  the  king  was 
afraid,  too.  These  people  are  just  like  a  great  many  now;  they 
are  afraid  to  go  into  the  inquiry-room  for  what  people  will 
say.  If  they  do  go  in,  they  get  behind  a  post,  so  that  they  can't 
be  seen.  They  are  afraid  the  people  in  the  store  will  find  it  out 
and  make  fun  of  them.  Moral  courage  is  wanted  by  them,  as  it 
was  wanted  by  those  people.  How  many  among  us  have  not 
the  moral  courage  to  come  out  for  the  God  of  our  mothers? 
They  know  these  black-hearted  hypocrites  around  them  are  not 
to  be  believed.  They  know  these  men  who  scoff  at  their  religion 
are  not  their  friends,  while  their  mothers  will  do  everything  for 
them.  The  truest  friends  we  can  have  are  those  who  believe  in 
Christ.  "And  the  people  answered  not  a  word.  Then  said  Eli- 
jah unto  the  people,  I,  even  I  only,  remain  a  prophet  of  the 
Lord,  but  Baal's  prophets  are  four  hundred  and  fifty  men.  Let 
them,  therefore,  give  us  two  bullocks;  and  let  them  choose  one 
bullock  for  themselves,  and  cut  it  in  pieces,  and  lay  it  on  wood, 
and  put  no  fire  under  it;  and  I  will  dress  the  other  bullock,  and 
lay  it  on  wood,  and  put  no  fire  under  it.  And  call  ye  on  the 
name  of  your  God,  and  I  will  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord;  and 
the  God  that  answereth  by  fire  let  him  be  God.  And  all  the 
people  answered  and  said,  It  is  well  spoken.  "Yes,  sir,  that's 
right.  We'll  stand  by  that  decision."  They  built  an  altar  and 


166  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

laid  their  bullock  on  it,  and  began  to  cry  to  Baal,  "O  Baal!  O 
Baal!  Baal!  Baal!"  No  answer.  They  cry  louder  and  louder, 
but  no  answer  comes.  They  pray  from  morning  till  noon,  but 
not  a  sound.  Elijah  says,  "Louder;  you  must  pray  louder.  He 
must  be  on  a  journey.  He  must  be  asleep;  he  must  be  on  a 
journey  or  asleep."  They  cry  louder  and  louder.  Some  people 
say  it  don't  matter  what  a  man  believes  so  long  as  he  is  in  earn- 
est. These  men  were  terribly  in  earnest.  No  Methodists  shout 
as  they  did.  They  cry  as  loud  as  their  voices  will  let  them,  but 
no  answer.  They  take  their  knives  and  cut  themselves  in  their 
earnestness.  Look  at  those  four  hundred  and  fifty  prophets  of 
Baal,  and  four  hundred  prophets  of  the  grove,  all  covered  with 
blood  as  they  cry  out  in  their  agony.  They  have  no  God. 
Young  man,  who  is  your  master?  Whom  do  you  serve?  If 
you  are  serving  Baal,  I  tell  you  if  ever  you  get  into  trouble  he 
will  not  answer  you.  No  answer  came.  Three  o'clock  came, 
the  hour  for  the  evening  sacrifice,  and  Elijah  prepared  his 
altar.  He  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  altar  of  Baal.  He 
merely  took  twelve  stones,  representing  the  twelve  tribes  of 
Israel,  and  built  his  altar,  and  laid  his  bullock  on.  No  doubt 
some  skeptic  said  he  had  some  fire  concealed  in  his  garment, 
for  he  digs  a  trench  all  around  it  to  hold  water.  Then  he  tells 
them  to  bring  four  barrels  of  water,  and  empties  them  over  his 
sacrifice.  Four  more  barrels  are  brought  and  thrown  on  the 
bullock,  making  eight,  and  then  four  barrels  more  are  added, 
making  twelve  in  all.  Then  there  lies  that  bullock,  dripping 
with  water,  and  Elijah  comes  forward.  Every  ear  and  eye  is 
open.  Those  bleeding  Baalites  look  at  him.  What  is  going  to 
be  the  end  of  it?  He  comes  forward,  calm  as  a  summer  even- 
ing. He  prays  to  the  God  of  Isaac  and  Abraham — when,  be- 
hold, look!  look!  down  it  comes — fire  from  the  very  throne 
of  God  and  consumes  the  wood,  and  the  stones,  and  the  sacri- 
fice, and  the  people  cry,  "The  Lord  is  God,"  The  question 
is  decided.  The  God  that  answereth  by  fire  is  the  God  of  man. 
My  friends,  who  is  your  God  now?  The  God  who  answers 
prayer,  or  have  you  no  God? 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  167 

I  can  imagine  some  of  you  saying,  "If  I  had  been  on  Mount 
Carmel  and  seen  that,  I  would  have  believed  it."  But  I  will  tell 
you  of  a  mount  on  which  occurred  another  scene.  That  was  a 
wonderful  scene,  but  it  does  not  compare  with  the  scene  on 
Calvary.  Look  there!  God's  own  beloved  Son  hanging  be- 
tween two  thieves  and  crying,  "Father,  forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do."  Talk  about  wonderful  things.  This 
has  been  the  wonder  of  ages.  A  man  once  gave  me  a  book  of 
wonderful  things.  I  saw  a  good  many  wonders  in  it,  but  I  did 
not  see  anything  so  wonderful  in  it  as  the  story  of  the  cross. 
My  friends,  see  His  expiring  look;  see  what  happened.  The 
very  rocks  were  rent;  the  walls  of  the  temple  were  rent,  and  all 
nature  owned  its  God.  The  sun  veiled  its  face  and  darkness  fell 
over  the  earth  when  the  Son  of  Man  expired  on  Mount  Cal- 
vary. Where  can  you  find  a  more  wonderful  sight  than  this? 
Those  Israelites  lived  on  the  other  side  of  the  cross;  we  lived  on 
this  side  of  it.  If  a  man  wants  proof  of  His  Gospel,  look 
around  this  assembly.  See  men  who  thirty  days  ago  were 
slaves,  bound  hand  and  foot  to  some  hellish  passion  which  was 
drawing  them  to  hell.  What  a  transformation  there  is.  All 
things  seem  changed  to  them.  Is  not  this  the  power  of  God? 
Said  a  young  convert  to  me  today:  "It  seems  as  if  we  were  liv- 
ing in  the  days  of  miracles,  and  the  Son  of  God  is  coming  down 
and  giving  men  complete  victory  over  lusts  and  passion."  That 
is  what  the  Son  of  God  does  for  men,  and  yet,  with  all  the 
proofs  before  their  eyes,  men  are  undecided. 

What  is  it  that  keeps  you  from  your  decision?  I  wish  I  had 
time  to  tell  you  many  of  the  reasons.  Hundreds  of  thousands 
of  men  are  thoroughly  convinced,  but  they  lack  moral  courage 
to  come  out  and  contess  their  sins.  Others  are  being  led  cap- 
tive by  some  sin.  They  have  got  some  darling  sin,  and  as  long 
as  they  hold  on  to  it  there  is  no  hope.  A  rran,  the  other  day, 
said  he  would  like  to  become  a  Christian,  but  he  had  a  bet  upon 
the  election,  and  he  wanted  that  settled  first.  He  did  not  think 
that  he  might  die  before  that  was  decided.  Eternity  is  drawing 
on.  Suppose  we  die  without  God,  without  hope,  without  ever- 


168  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

lasting  life;  it  seems  to  me  it  would  have  been  better  never  to 
have  been  born.  My  friends,  I  ask  you,  why  not  come  out  like 
men?  Say,  "Cost  what  it  will,  I  will  accept  Jesus."  Now,  have 
moral  courage.  Come.  How  many  of  you  are  thoroughly 
convinced  in  your  minds  that  you  ought  to  be  Christians? 
Now,  just  ask  yourselves  the  question,  "What  hinders  me; 
what  stands  in  my  way?"  I  can  imagine  some  of  you  looking 
behind  you  to  see  how  the  one  sitting  there  looks.  If  he  seems 
serious,  you  look  serious;  if  he  laughs,  you  will  laugh,  and 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  you'll  not  accept  Him.  You  think 
of  your  companions,  and  you  say  you  cannot  stand  their  jeers. 
Is  not  that  so?  Come.  Trample  the  world  under  your  feet 
and  take  the  Lord,  cost  what  it  will.  Say.  "by  the  grace  of  God 
I  will  serve  Him  from  this  hour."  Turn  your  backs  upon  hell, 
and  set  your  faces  toward  Heaven,  and  it  will  be  the  best  night 
of  your  lives.  Have  you  ever  seen  a  man  who  accepted  Christ 
regret  it?  You  cannot  find  a  man  who  has  changed  masters  and 
gone  over  to  Christ  who  has  regretted  it.  This  is  one  of  the 
strongest  proofs  of  Christianity.  Those  who  have  never  fol- 
lowed Him  only  regret  it.  I  have  seen  hundreds  dying,  when 
in  the  army  and  when  a  missionary,  and  I  never  saw  a  man 
who  died  conscious  but  who  regretted  if  he  had  not  lived  a 
Christian  life.  My  friends,  if  you  accept  Him  tonight  it  will  be 
the  best  hour  of  your  life.  Let  this  night  be  the  best  night  of 
your  lives.  Let  me  bring  this  to  your  mind,  if  you  are  lost  it 
will  be  because  you  do  not  decide.  "How  long  halt  ye  between 
two  opinions?  If  the  Lord  be  God,  follow  Him;  but  if  Baal, 
then  follow  him."  How  many  men  in  this  assembly  want  to 
be  on  the  Lord's  side?  Those  who  want  to  take  their  stand 
on  the  side  of  the  true  God,  rise. 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  211 


CHAPTER   LX. 
A  CHRISTMAS  SERMON. 

Luke  it,  10:    "Behold,  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which 
shall  be  to  all  people." 

It  seems  to  me  as  if  everyone  ought  to  be  lifted  up — their 
hearts  ought  to  be  lit  up  with  joy  today.  I  suppose  millions 
of  people  have  read  this  second  chapter  of  Luke,  and  many 
eyes  have  fallen  upon  this  verse,  "Behold,  I  bring  you  good 
tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  to  all  people;  for  unto  you 
is  born  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour,  which  is  Christ 
the  Lord,"  and  their  hearts  have  been  filled  with  peace  and  joy. 
I  have  often  wondered  what  God  could  have  given  us  in  the 
place  of  Christ;  what  better  gift  He  could  have  given  us?  Sup- 
pose He  had  given  us  the  choice  ourselves;  what  could  we 
have  selected  better?  How  many  of  you  have  been  wondering 
what  you  will  give  your  children  as  presents!  You  have  been 
puzzled  what  to  give  them  that  would  suit  them  best,  and  you 
have  listened  to  their  conversations,  to  hear  if  you  could  catch 
what  they  would  like.  You  have  listened  to  all  their  wants, 
and  perhaps  you've  gone  and  bought  these  things,  and  have 
them  hid  away  in  your  houses  now,  and  tomorrow  they  will  be 
brought  out.  God  looked  at  us,  and  He  found  in  every  heart 
there  was  written  want,  want,  and  He  saw  what  we  wanted  (and 
that  was  His  own  Son),  and  He  gave  us  just  what  every  one  of 
us  needs.  Some  one  has  said  that  if  a  man  had  chosen  some- 
thing himself,  from  Adam  all  the  way  down,  he  could  not  have 
selected  anything  better  than  a  Saviour.  There  is  nothing  that 
could  be  chosen  in  comparison  to  Him.  God  saw  what  we 
needed,  and  He  never  makes  a  mistake.  It  is  just  what  every 


212  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

man,  woman  and  child  in  this  city  needs.  Not  a  woman  in  this 
building  can  get  into  the  kingdom  of  God  without  taking  this 
gift.  Therefore,  it  is  good  tidings  when  we  read,  "For  unto 
you  is  born  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour."  He  is  a 
gift  to  everyone  here.  God  gave  Him  up  freely  to  us  all,  and  all 
we've  got  to  do  is  to  take  Him. 

You  remember,  during  the  war,  we  used  to  pray  for  peace. 
You  could  not  go  into  a  church  but  you  heard  the  cry  going 
up,  "Peace,  peace."'  In  every  home  where  there  was  a  family 
altar  the  prayer  was  "Peace."  That's  just  what  we  all  want. 
Now,  these  angels  told  the  shepherds  on  the  plains  of  Bethle- 
hem that  they  had  brought  peace.  "Glory  to  God  in  the  high- 
est, and  on  earth  peace,  good-will  toward  men."  And  how 
that  ought  to  fill  every  soul  with  gladness.  There  is  no  true 
peace,  true  joy,  till  He  comes  into  our  hearts.  We  cannot  have 
it  unless  He  has  entered  our  soul.  We  have  in  this  text  the 
announcement  that  this  gift  is  ready  for  us;  therefore  it  is  good 
tidings.  Every  thirsty  soul  in  this  building  will  have  peace  if 
they  will  only  take  Him,  because  that  is  what  He  came  to  bring. 
When  we  had  war  in  this  country  with  England,  and  every- 
thing looked  dark  for  the  people  of  these  shores,  you  remember 
how  some  commissioners  sailed  to  see  if -they  could  not  bring 
about  a  reconciliation.  They  had  been  absent  six  months — 
and  you  know  we  hadn't  any  cable  in  those  days,  or  fast  steam- 
ers sailing  every  few  days — and  the  people  hearing  no  news 
from  them,  things  began  to  look  very  dark.  It  looked  as  if 
they  were  not  going  to  have  a  reconciliation,  as  if  they  were 
not  going  to  have  peace,  but  a  long  war.  You  know  the  colo- 
nies were  very  weak,  and  they  dreaded  to  have  a  continuance 
of  the  war.  At  last  the  news  came  that  the  vessels  were  off 
Sandy  Hook,  and  the  people  were  anxious  for  the  commis- 
sioners to  arrive,  so  that  they  could  learn  whether  the  war  was 
ended.  The  news  spread  through  the  city  that  day  that  they 
were  coming,  but  the  day  passed  into  the  night,  and  it  looked 
as  if  the  vessels  would  not  be  able  to  reach  port  before  morn- 
ing. So  the  people  went  to  bed.  But  the  vessels  came  up.  and 


Y.  M.  C.  A.,  BALTIMORE,  WHERE  MR.  MOODY   HAD   HIS   HEADQUARTERS 
DURING   THE   GREAT    REVIVAL   MEETING   IN    BALTIMORE. 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  213 

these  men  had  good  news,  and  the  boats  were  lowered.  The 
commissioners  stepped  into  the  boats,  and  the  sailors,  in  the 
darkness,  pulled  for  the  shore.  When  they  got  within  hearing 
distance  they  could  not  contain  themselves,  and  cried,  "Peace, 
peace,"  and  the  men  took  up  the  glad  news  and  ran  up  one 
street  and  down  another  shouting,  "Peace,  peace,"  and  men, 
women  and  children,  too,  came  from  their  homes  and  took  up 
the  cry,  and  it  echoed  through  the  city.  The  cannon  were 
booming,  bells  were  ringing,  and  all  New  York  was  full  of  the 
joy  of  that  peace.  It  was  what  the  people  wished.  The  war 
was  over,  peace  was  brought,  and  the  English  army  was  with- 
drawn, and  we  had  peace  in  this  blessed  land  for  nearly  a  cen- 
tury- If  we  have  been  at  war  with  Him,  here  is  reconciliation 
today.  Yes,  my  friends,  it  is  good-will  to  men.  If  you  have 
been  at  enmity  with  Him,  bear  in  mind  that  our  enmity  can 
cease  today.  We  can  be  reconciled  unto  Himself,  we  can  have 
peace  for  time  and  eternity,  for  "Behold,  I  bring  you  good  tid- 
ings of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  to  all  people,  for  unto  you  is 
born  this  day,  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour." 

If  God  does  not  want  us  reconciled  to  Himself,  why  did  He 
send  Christ?  What  did  He  leave  Heaven  for  if  He  did  not  want 
to  bring  peace  and  reconciliation  to  men?  He  came  for  this 
purpose,  and  we,  as  His  commissioners,  ask  you  to  be  recon- 
ciled to  Him.  How  sweet  it  is  to  be  reconciled  to  God — to  be 
at  perfect  peace  with  Him!  You  who  have  been  at  war  with 
God  all  your  lives,  you  who  have  been  at  war  with  your  neigh- 
bors, with  your  friends,  with  yourselves,  will  you  not  accept 
His  peace  now?  What  would  be  more  acceptable  to  a  man  in 
prison  than  his  liberty?  I  remember,  while  in  England,  I  was 
told  of  a  man  who  was  to  be  hung  at  8  o'clock  upon  a  certain 
morning.  The  black  flag  was  waving  from  the  prison  in  the 
heart  of  the  town  where  he  was  incarcerated.  A  great  many 
of  the  ministers  in  the  churches  had  for  their  subject  this  con- 
demned man.  Everybody  was  talking  about  the  execution, 
and  the  whole  town  was  excited.  The  black  flag  raised  upon 
the  prison  told  them  that  a  man  was  to  be  launched  into  eter- 


214  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

nity.  Thousands  were  praying  for  him,  a  great  many  were 
weeping,  for  he  was  a  man  who  had  been  very  much  liked  by 
some.  They  had  sent  petitions  to  the  Queen,  but  without  any 
effect  so  far.  Perhaps  the  gallows  was  erected  inside  the 
prison,  as  it  is  here,  and  the  poor  captive  heard  the  carpenters 
at  work,  and  as  they  struck  blow  upon  blow  it  seemed  to  be 
upon  his  breast,  for  every  nail  driven  in  brought  him  nearer  to 
his  doom.  Now  the  hour  is  approaching.  The  day  preceding 
his  execution  passes  into  night,  and  darkness  hangs  over  that 
prison.  How  dark  it  must  have  been  in  that  cell  that  night! 
Next  morning  he  knew  he  was  to  die  upon  the  gallows.  That 
night  about  midnight  he  heard  the  footfalls  of  the  sheriff  com- 
ing near  his  door.  He  knew  the  hour  had  not  yet  arrived,  and 
he  began  to  tremble.  "Is  he  coming  before  my  time  to  take  me 
out  and  execute  me?"  The  door  was  unlocked,  and  the  sheriff 
said  to  the  condemned  man,  "I  bring  you  good  news — I  bring 
you  a  pardon  from  the  Queen."  What  do  you  think  would  be 
the  feelings  of  that  man?  Wouldn't  he  rejoice?  My  friends, 
the  black  flag  of  death  may  be  waving  over  you,  and  hell  re- 
joicing that  you  will  soon  be  there,  but  Christ  comes  with  a 
pardon  today  by  which  your  sins  are  blotted  out — by  which  all 
your  iniquities  are  taken  away,  by  which  you  will  become  as  a 
child  of  God  and  be  made  meet  for  His  kingdom.  Is  not  this 
good  news?  If  anyone  here  is  living  under  sin,  you  are  con- 
demned, but  you  can  receive  a  pardon,  for  light  has  come  into 
the  world.  The  Son  of  Man  has  come  into  the  world,  and  you 
are  offered  a  pardon  as  a  Christmas  gift.  Will  you  take  it?  or 
will  you  send  back  an  insulting  message  to  God,  saying  that 
you  don't  want  Him  as  the  Saviour  of  sinners;  that  you  don't 
feel  any  need  of  Him;  that  you've  no  room  for  Him?  My 
friends.  He  has  come  with  a  gift  by  which  everyone  is  liberated 
from  sin  if  they  will  only  accept  it. 

Look  at  that  prison  in  Jerusalem  where  Barabbas  was  con- 
fined. He  had  been  tried  and  sentenced,  and  he  was  to  die  the 
death  of  the  cross.  He  was  a  noted  prisoner,  and  you  know  it 
was  only  the  worst  prisoners  who  died  the  death  of  the  cross. 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  215 

You  can  see  him  as  the  day  drew  near.  The  day  was  set,  and 
the  hour  was  rolling  on  when  he  was  to  meet  death  and  judg- 
ment, and  you  can  see  the  poor  man  trembling  at  the  thought. 
Strange  news  reaches  him.  He  hears  that  Christ,  the  Galilean 
prophet,  is  going  to  be  executed  with  him,  and  He  is  to  be  put 
between  two  thieves — He,  the  Prince  of  Peace.  Then  a  rumor 
comes  to  him  that  Pilate  is  going  to  liberate  Christ  or  him- 
self, and  he  is  going  to  let  the  people  choose  between  them. 
And  if  some  one  had  gone  and  told  him  this  he  would  have 
said,  "Why,  of  course,  they  will  not  choose  Christ  and  allow 
me  to  be  liberated.  I  have  taken  men's  lives  all  my  days,  while 
He  has  given  men  life;  I've  robbed  men  of  all  they  have,  while 
He  has  only  given  them  blessings;  I've  destroyed  men's  peace 
all  my  life,  while  He  has  only  given  men  joy  and  happiness, 
and,  of  course,  they  will  liberate  Him."  It  might  have  been 
that  he  had  a  family  living  in  Jerusalem,  and  in  the  morning 
before  his  execution  his  wife  and  children  came  to  bid  him 
farewell,  and  I've  been  told  by  executioners  that  the  farewell 
between  the  family  of  the  criminal  and  himself  is  one  of  the 
saddest  things  conceivable.  Perhaps  at  a  funeral  you  have 
seen  a  loving  mother  coming  up  and  imprinting  the  last  kiss 
upon  the  marble  brow  of  her  boy,  and  one  member  after  an- 
other of  the  family  comes  and  takes  the  last  look.  You  know 
this  is  all  very  sad;  but  what  is  it  to  the  grief  of  that  heart- 
broken wife  who  bids  farewell  to  her  husband,  who  came  into 
that  cell  in  the  Jerusalem  prison,  knowing  that  in  a  few  hours 
he  was  to  die  on  the  cross.  You  can  see  him  kiss  her  for  the 
last  time,  and  bidding  farewell  to  each  of  his  children,  and 
they  go  never  to  see  him  again.  Poor  Barabbas!  How  he 
must  have  trembled;  how  he  must  have  been  full  of  sorrow  and 
gloom  as  he  looked  forward  to  the  death  he  was  to  die,  and 
thought  of  those  he  was  leaving  behind.  By  and  by  he  hears  a 
footfall  upon  the  corridor.  Nearer  and  nearer  it  comes.  "Are 
they  going  to  take  me  to  execution  now?"  he  asks  himself.  The 
bolts  are  pulled,  the  door  is  swung  open,  and  the  sheriff  cries 
out,  "Barabbas,  you  are  free;  go  where  you  please!"  I  can  see 


2l6  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

that  poor,  condemned  man  looking  at  the  officer.  "What! 
What  do  you  tell  me!  I  am  free?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
the  people  have  chosen  Jesus  of  Nazareth  to  be  executed  in 
stead  of  me?"  "Yes,  they  have,  and  you  are  free."  I  can  see 
him  leaving  that  cell,  and  he  goes  down  to  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, and  he  draws  that  wife  to  his  bosom.  "I've  got  good 
news  for  you;  I  haven't  Only  got  my  life  prolonged,  but  I've 
got  my  liberty.  Christ  has  died  in  my  stead."  That  is  the 
Gospel.  Christ  died  for  every  sinner;  as  Paul  says,  "He  died 
and  gave  Himself  for  me" — for  each  of  us  here.  That's  the 
glorious  Gospel  of  substitution.  He  died  "for  our  transgres- 
sions, He  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities;  thethastisement  of 
our  peace  was  upon  Him,  and  with  His  stripes  we  are  healed." 
Will  you  walk  out  of  this  building  today  and  say,  "Christ  is 
nothing  to  me;  I  see  no  beauty  in  Him;  I  see  no  reason  why  I 
should  love  Him?"  God  gave  Him  up  for  you.  Not  only  was 
He  given  up  for  us  and  born  in  a  manger  and  lived  a  life  of 
toil  and  hardship,  but  He  died  an  ignominious  death.  Say, 
young  lady,  would  you  rather  live  the  life  of  the  world — would 
you  rather  life  a  life  of  pleasure;  would  you  rather  have  your 
darling  sin  than  God's  gift?  Won't  you  today  accept  and  make 
your  peace  for  time  and  eternity?  and  this  will  be  a  joyful  day 
for  you. 

Let  me  say  here  that  I  never  knew  one  who  accepted  these 
glad  tidings  who  was  ever  disappointed.  Now,  God  does  not 
offer  us  good  tidings,  and  when  we  come  to  look,  find  it  bad 
news.  Very  often  we  hear  in  the  world  something  which  we 
think  is  good  news,  but  after  a  little  we  find  out  that  it  is  very 
bad.  It  is  not  so  with  the  Gospel, 


LIFE    OF    MOODY. 


CHAPTER   — . 

ALWAYS    CHEERFUL    AND    KIND. 
"Be  good  and  you  will  be  happy"  was  Moody's  motto. 

In  a  eharacter  sketch  of  the  late  Dwight  L.  Moody,  contrib- 
uted to  the  New  York  World  recently  by  Lavinia  Hart,  she 
said: 

There  probably  never  was  a  man  who  accepted  and  prac- 
ticed and  instilled  religion  with  so  much  cheerfulness  and 
heart  sunshine  as  Mr.  Moody. 

His  life's  aim  has  been  to  "never  lose  an  opportunity  to  make 
somebody  happy,"  and  when  opportunities  did  not  offer  he 
made  them. 

For  forty  years  Mr.  Moody  has  been  in  the  business  of 
making  people  happy."  If  he  had  expended  the  same  amount 
of  energy  and  ingenuity  in  any  mercantile  or  professional  line 
he  would  undoubtedly  have  accumulated  a  fortune.  Instead,  he 
is  as  poor  today  as  when  he  started  upon  the  career  of  an 
evangelist,  except  for  the  wealth  of  love  and  reverence  and 
gratitude  that  rushes  to  him  from  thousands  of  hearts. 

Mr.  Moody's  success  has  not  been  confined  to  America.  In 
England  he  made  a  great  stir,  and  the  people  of  the  London 
slums  stopped  and  listened  to  this  bright,  fresh,  hearty  New 
Englander,  who  got  down  to  their  own  level  and  extended  a 
cordial,  chubby  hand  in  greeting,  while  he  offered  them  a  re- 
ligion, not  of  sackcloth  and  ashes,  but  of  rejoicing  and  thanks- 
giving. 

Therein  was  the  secret  of  Mr.  Moody's  success.  He  rose  to 
his  pulpit — and  it  was  any  pulpit,  regardless  of  place  or  denomi- 
nation— with  a  smile  on  his  lips  and  in  his  eyes  which  gave 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  289 

*  practical,  living  proof  of  what  his  religion  had  done  for  him. 
Creeds  did  not  limit  the  scope  of  his  work,  for  it  is  Mr. 
Moody's  contention  that  Christ  recognized  no  creeds,  but 
"preached  the  Gospel  to  all  men." 

Pews  were  never  empty,  and  their  occupants  never  went  to 
sleep  when  Moody  preached,  and  people  who  never  went  to 
church,  who  boast  of  a  "religion  of  their  own,"  a  "moral"  re- 
ligion, based  on  "common  sense"  and  "things  tangible,"  with 
a  comfortable  logic  behind  it,  went  to  hear  Moody  preach  and 
Sankey  sing  just  to  get  inspiration  from  their  cheerfulness  and 
marvel  at  their  faith. 

I  spent  a  day  at  his  home  in  East  Northfield,  Mass.  There 
are  few  dry  eyes  to  be  found  in  the  vicinity,  except  Mrs. 
Moody's,  whose  fortitude  and  faith  are  a  monument  to  the  ex- 
ample of  Mr.  Moody's  practical  every-day  life.  Mrs.  Moody's 
interest  and  help  in  her  husband's  work  have  always  been  of 
great  service  to  him.  During  the  five  weeks  of  his  illness  she 
has  scarcely  left  his  side;  yet  with  all  the  mental  and  physical 
strain  there  are  no  traces  of  tears  in  her  patient  eyes. 

"I  do  not  have  time  to  weep,"  she  said  softly,  for  no  one 
speaks  above  a  whisper  in  the  Moody  home,  "nor  have  I  the 
inclination.  I  am  confident  he  will  recover,  for  he  cannot  yet 
be  spared;  there  is  so  much  work  for  him  to  do,  and  tears  avail 
nothing,  but  faith  avails  much." 

The  very  atmosphere  of  the  Moody  home  bespeaks  love 
and  harmony.  The  house  is  a  big  white  structure  with  green 
blinds,  almost  hidden  by  massive  elms.  There  are  dainty  white 
chintz  curtains  at  the  windows,  with  fluted  ruffles  falling  over 
boxes  of  bright  flowers,  and  within  there  is  something  about 
the  old-fashioned  rockers  and  cushions  and  round  tables  and 
books  and  the  cozy  glow  from  open  fires  that  makes  one  feel 
it  is  really  a  home. 

The  view  from  Mr.  Moody's  place  is  wonderfully  good  and 
restful  to  eyes  grown  used  to  narrow  streets  and  pavements 
and  chimney  pots.  A  wide  valley  slopes  from  his  house  to  the 
Connecticut  river,  and  beyond  are  the  Winchester  hills,  with 


200  LIFE    OF    MOODY.      • 

the  Green  mountains  rising  loftily  behind  them.  Environment 
may  have  much  to  do  with  the  tenor  of  the  lives  of  the  people 
of  Northfield,  which  is  a  sort  of  wholesale  establishment  for 
the  turning  out  of  practical  Christians.  "The  West  Point  of 
Christian  Work"  Mr.  Moody  calls  it,  and  the  schools  were  de- 
signed not  only  to  give  to  young  men  and  women  who  could 
not  otherwise  afford  it  a  good  preparatory  college  education, 
but  also  a  practical  Christian  education.  Life  at  the  Northfield 
colleges  was  intended  by  Mr.  Moody  not  to  unfit  men  for  the 
humbler  occupations  or  women  for  the  homely  duties  of  wives 
and  mothers,  but  rather  to  fit  them  to  exalt  these  occupations. 
The  college  girl  bred  at  Northfield  is  given  an  all-round  educa- 
tion which  embraces  more  than  Greek  and  Latin  and  mathe- 
matics. She  is  taught  to  sew  and  sweep  and  cook,  and  she  not 
only  plans  the  best  dinners  for  the  least  money,  but  proceeds  to 
cook  them  and  clear  them  away.  Every  girl  at  the  Northfield 
College  is  compelled,  whether  rich  or  poor,  to  devote  one  hour 
a  day  to  household  duties,  and  they  contend  there  is  as  much 
to  learn  about  the  proper  cleansing  of  soiled  cups  and  saucers 
as  there  is  in  the  solving  of  mathematical  problems,  and  that 
it  is  quite  as  important  a  factor  in  an  all-round  education. 
.  One  of  Moody's  favorite  stories  is  about  a  converted  miser 
to  whom  a  neighbor  in  distress  appealed  for  help.  The  miser 
decided  to  prove  the  genuineness  of  his  conversion  by  giving 
him  a  ham.  On  his  way  to  get  it  the  tempter  whispered,  "Give 
him  the  smallest  one  you  have."  A  mental  struggle  ensued, 
and  finally  the  miser  took  down  the  largest  ham  he  had.  "You 
are  a  fool,"  the  devil  said,  and  the  farmer  replied,  "If  you  don't 
keep  still  I'll  give  him  every  ham  in  the  smokehouse!" 

Mr.  Moody  believes  in  the  efficacy  of  stories. 

"Men  will  listen  to  a  story,"  he  says,  "when  they  won't  listen 
to  Scripture,  and  the  moral  of  a  story  remains  with  them  a  long 
time,  and  often  sets  them  thinking  along  the  lines  they  refuse 
to  consider  in  sermon  form." 

Mr.  Moody  has  been  famous  as  a  story-teller.    He  has  never 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  2QI 

been  too  busy  to  stop  and  listen  to  a  joke,  and  retaliates  in 
kind,  no  matter  where  he  was,  at  his  favorite  work  in  the  gar- 
den or  driving  to  the  schools  with  some  of  its  produce.  It  was 
on  one  of  these  latter  occasions,  when  he  stopped  to  tell  a  joke, 
that  a  camera  snapped  and  a  picture  was  taken  by  Mr.  Moody's 
nephew. 


300  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 


A  CHARACTERIZATION. 

BY  REV.  A.  J.  GORDON,  D.  D. 

[In  the  Congregationalist  of  Boston,  August  3,  1893,  the  late 
Rev.  A.  J.  Gordon,  D.  D.,  of  the  Clarendon  Street  Baptist 
Church,  Boston,  an  intimate  friend  of  Mr.  Moody  and  associ- 
ated with  him  for  many  years  in  a  multitude  of  Christian  enter- 
prises, wrote  an  appreciation  of  him,  a  portion  of  which  may 
well  be  reprinted  at  this  time. — EDITORS.] 

Though  D  wight  L.  Moody  has  been  set  apart  by  no  council 
and  has  received  no  laying  on  of  consecrating  hands,  he  has  yet 
exhibited  such  signs  of  an  apostle  that  the  whole  Church  of 
God  has  heard  him  gladly.  How  he  began  his  Christian  life 
and  how  he  advanced  step  by  step  from  the  humblest  to  the 
highest  Christian  service  is  too  well  known  to  need  rehearsing. 
Coming  to  Boston  from  his  country  home  in  Northfield  to 
find  employment,  he  was  himself  found  by  the  Lord,  and  under 
the  ministry  of  that  gracious  man  of  God,  Dr.  E.  N.  Kirk,  he 
entered  on  his  membership  in  the  Christian  Church.  He  was 
educated  for  the  ministry  by  ministering  in  all  ways  and  in  all 
times  to  those  needing  help.  We  have  heard  him  tell  of  his 
resolve,  early  made  and  persistently  carried  out,  of  allowing  no 
day  to  pass  without  urging  upon  some  soul  the  claims  of  Christ. 
Thus  he  learned  to  preach  to  the  hundreds  by  preaching  to  the 
one.  And  no  doubt  much  of  the  directness  and  point  of  his 
style  is  due  to  this  habit  of  personal  dealing  with  souls.  In 
preaching  it  is  easier  to  harangue  a  multitude  than  to  hit  a  man. 
But  he  who  knows  how  to  do  the  latter  has  the  highest  qualifi- 
cation for  doing  the  former.  Personal  preaching  that  has  a 
"Thou  art  the  man"  at  the  point  of  every  sermon  needs  only  to 
be  multiplied  by  one  hundred  or  one  thousand  to  become  pop- 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  3OI 

ular  preaching  of  the  best  sort.  This  is  the  style  of  the  eminent 
evangelist.  He  deals  with  the  personal  conscience  in  the  plain- 
est and  most  pungent  Saxon,  so  that  the  common  people  hear 
him  gladly  and  the  uncommon  people  do  not  fail  to  give  him 
their  ears. 

Yet  his  power  does  not  lie  altogether  in  his  words,  but  quite 
as  much  in  his  administrative  energy.  Robert  Hall  was  a 
preacher  of  transcendent  genius,  often  producing  an  impres- 
sion upon  his  hearers  quite  unmatched  in  the  history  of  pulpit 
oratory.  Yet  the  results  of  his  ministry  were  comparatively 
meager;  he  was  a  great  preacher,  but  not  a  great  doer.  On  the 
contrary,  John  Wesley,  by  no  means  Hall's  equal  as  a  pulpit 
orator,  because  of  his  extraordinary  executive  gifts,  moved  a 
whole  generation  with  a  new  religious  impulse.  In  like  man- 
ner, Spurgp^n,  by  yoking  a  rare  preaching  talent  with  a  not  less 
remarkable  working  talent,  and  keeping  the  two  constantly 
abreast,  accomplished  a  ministry  which  for  largeness  of  results 
and  extent  of  influence  has  possibly  no  equal  in  recent  centuries. 

Mr.  Moody  is  not  an  ordained  minister,  but  he  is  more  for- 
tunate in  being  a  preordained  worker,  as  well  as  a  foreordained 
preacher.  A  genius  for  bringing  things  to  pass,  a  talent  for 
organizing  campaigns  on  a  large  scale,  selecting  co-workers 
with  singular  wisdom  and  placing  them  in  the  most  advan- 
tageous positions — this  is  the  notable  thing  which  appears  in 
the  character  and  career  of  the  evangelist.  "The  governor"  is 
the  name  which  we  constantly  heard  applied  to  the  late  pastor 
of  the  Metropolitan  Tabernacle,  as  he  moved  about  among  his 
congregation  in  London  a  few  years  ago.  The  American  evan- 
gelist easily  wins  for  himself  the  title  of  "general"  among  his 
fellow-laborers  in  the  Gospel.  He  manages  the  campaign,  not 
imperiously,  indeed,  but  with  such  Napoleonic  command  of  the 
situation  and  such  mastery  of  resources  that  all  his  colaborers 
rejoice  to  yield  him  the  pre-eminence. 

We  venture  to  say,  indeed,  that  anyone  who  has  been  much 
at  his  headquarters  will  find  here  the  greatest  occasion  for  ad- 
miration. The  number  and  extent  of  religious  enterprises 


302  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

which  he  can  keep  in  hand  at  once,  the  thoroughness  with 
which  he  can  command  every  detail,  the  inspiration  and  cheer 
which  he  can  put  Into  a  great  army  of  workers  gathered  about 
him — this  we  have  observed  with  a  surprise  that  increases 
every  year. 

And  with  all  this  there  is  another  talent  which  we  have 
learned  to  value  more  and  more  in  public  men — a  grand  talent 
for  silence.  It  is  a  rare  thing  for  one  to  be  as  effective  in  say- 
ing nothing  as  he  ;s  in  speaking.  When  a  friend  of  Von  Moltke 
was  asked  the  secret  of  that  great  general's  success  in  man- 
aging men,  he  replied,  "He  knew  how  to  hold  his  tongue  in 
seven  different  languages."  Blessed  is  the  man  who  can  re- 
frain his  lips  from  speaking  injudiciously,  and  his  mouth  that  it 
utter  no  hasty  word.  In  dealing  with  colaborers  endowed 
with  all  sorts  and  sizes  of  tempers  this  is  an  indispensable  re- 
quirement. To  push  on  the  work  steadily  meantime,  giving 
offense  to  none  and  holding  the  forces  in  order  and  harmony, 
is  a  great  achievement.  It  requires  a  wise  silence  as  well  as  a 
positive  utterance  to  do  this  successfully. 

A  mightily  energetic  man  is  here  and  a  singularly  prudent 
man,  one  who  generates  great  force  by  his  preaching  and  his 
personality,  but  who  knows  at  the  same  time  how  to  prevent 
hot  boxes  on  his  train  of  religious  enterprises  by  avoiding 
friction,  which  imprudent  speech  always  genders. 


LIFE    OF    MOODY.  4OO, 


MR.   MOODY   AT   HOME. 

BY  REV.  C.   I.  SCOFIELD. 
[  Congregationalist.] 

Great  as  will  be  the  universal  sense  of  loss  in  the  death  of 
Dwight  L.  Moody,  it  is  here  in  Northfield  that  he  will  be  most 
acutely  missed,  most  deeply  mourned.  It  is  not  only  that  he 
was  the  founder  of  the  noble  institutions  which  remain  to  be 
his  worthy  monument  and  the  pride  of  our  village,  nor  even 
that  his  energy  gathered  here  the  great  summer  conventions 
which  gave  Northfield  so  wide  a  fame,  but  it  is  rather  that  his 
impressive  personality  filled  and  pervaded  our  Northfield  life. 
Nowhere  else  was  Mr.  Moody  so  thoroughly  understood  as  in 
Northfield.  The  elderly  part  of  our  people  grew  up  with  him. 
went  to  school  with  him,  played  and  worked  with  him.  They 
are  full  of  reminiscences  of  his  boyhood,  and  the  testimony 
abounds  that  from  his  earliest  years  he  was  the  same  powerful 
spirit  whom  the  world  came  to  know  as  the  greatest  modern 
master  of  assemblies.  "He  was  always  a  leader,"  said  Deacon 
Edward  Barber,  his  sometime  playmate  and  life-long  personal 
friend.  Mr.  Moody  was  a  hill-town  New  Englander  to  the 
backbone.  Wherever  he  went  and  however  he  might  be  sur- 
rounded by  the  great  of  the  earth,  he  never  lost  that  self-poise 
and  that  wholesome  common  sense  which  are  so  characteristic 
of  the  old  hill-town  stock.  He  never  saw  a  landscape  so  fair 
that  it  seemed  to  him  as  lovely  as  Northfield.  He  was  racy 
of  the  soil. 

It  was  amusing  to  see  Mr.  Moody  in  the  act  of  what  he 
called  resting.  After  months  of  exhausting  toil  in  great  meet- 
ings, he  would  return  to  Northfield  to  "rest."  And  this  was 
the  manner  of  it:  When  at  home  he  always  rose  at  5  in  the 


410  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 

morning,  went  to  *he  kitchen  for  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  then  called 
for  his  buggy.  By  6  he  would  be  among  the  milkers  at  Mount 
Hermon,  or  in  the  kitchen  where  the  breakfast  of  his  students 
was  preparing.  If  any  especial  work  was  afoot,  he  was  sure  to 
look  it  over,  master  every  detail  of  it  and  give  shrewd,  practi- 
cal suggestions.  A.t  8  he  was  back  in  Northfield  breakfasting 
with  his  family.  For  weeks  together  he  would  address  the 
young  ladies  of  the  seminary  at  9,  then  look  over  his  huge  mail, 
and  finish  the  forenoon  by  driving  again  to  Mount  Hermon  to 
speak  to  the  boys  at  n. 

What  his  labors  were  during  the  great  conventions,  how 
shrewd,  tactful  and  masterful  he  was,  everybody  knows.  We 
knew  that  he  was  wearing  himself  out,  but  he  smiled  benign- 
antly  at  our  warnings  and  went  right  on. 

Doubtless  Dwight  L.  Moody  was  one  of  those  primitive  and 
elemental  men,  built  on  so  great  a  scale  that  of  right  the  whole 
world  owned  him,  but  we  of  Northfield  knew  him  as  the  world 
never  did,  and  mourn  him  as  the  world  never  can. 

The  Parsonage,  East  Northfield, 


508  LIFE    OF    MOODY. 


A   FEW  PERSONAL  IMPRESSIONS. 

BY  H.  A.   B. 
[  Co  igregatioualist.] 

The  last  time  I  saw  Mr.  Moody  was  when  Campbell  Morgan, 
under  his  auspices,  was  holding  meetings  in  Boston  in  October. 
Calling  upon  the  latter  at  the  Hotel  Bellevue,  I  was  ushered, 
not  only  into  his  presence,  but  that  of  the  evangelist  himself, 
his  wife  and  his  staunch  coadjutor  in  all  good  labors,  Henry 
M.  Moore.  I  remember  the  interest  with  which  Mr.  Moody 
listened  to  Mr.  Morgan's  account  of  what  his  London  church 
is  doing  in  the  way  of  evangelistic  services  on  Sunday  evenings. 
The  conversation  then  drifted  into  a  general  discussion  touch- 
ing ways  of  winning  the  outsiders.  It  was  plain  that  no  sub- 
ject interested  Mr.  Moody  so  profoundly  as  this.  He  was  eager 
to  learn  about  methods  being  employed  here  and  there.  I 
could  see  that  tne  main  reason  why  Mr.  Moody  feared  the 
higher-criticism  agitation  was  lest  it  should  paralyze  the  spir- 
itual power  of  the  churches.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  new 
views  often  made  ministers  and  laymen  unspiritual,  and  he 
would  not  hesitate,  in  private  conversation,  to  point  to  specific 
instances  where  that  result  could  not  be  denied.  I  am  glad  that 
my  last  impression  of  him,  received  during  what  must  have 
been  his  final  visit  to  Boston,  was  of  his  tremendous  earnest- 
ness in  the  matter  of  saving  souls.  It  seems  now  as  if  he  must 
have  realized,  even  then,  that  the  time  was  short. 

Every  great  man  is  to  be  judged  in  part  by  the  men  who 
compose  his  circle  of  friends.  In  one  sense  Mr.  Moody's  per- 
sonality was  not  a  winsome  one.  He  was  often  brusque,  always 
decided  in  his  manner,  but  this  very  straightforwardness  and 
sincerity  drew  about  him  all  types  of  men.  Everyone  knows 


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